Star Trek Invincible Season 2
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: The Romulan-Federation War dies out as the Federation and Romulans realize the greatest threat is not each other. Invincible and her crew must struggle against the Borg and Dominion the only way they can: with no remorse.
1. Episode 1: By Rite of Conquest, Part II

**Episode 1: By Rite of Conquest, Part II**

**Teaser**

"We've got three Valdore-class warbirds closing along with two D'deridex class," Commander Adam Tryke said, wiping away sweat and grim from his face, "And they are hailing us."

"At least we got communications back," Commander Nathan Trust muttered out along with a sigh, "Onscreen."

The bridge was in shambles from the pounding that had lasted surprising less than half an hour. Chairs were torn out of place, where consoles should have been there was now jagged openings that sparked and jagged pieces of plastic and glass sprawled over the decks. Bodies of crew laid in various states of burnt and tears. The Admiral was dead along with the Senior Science Officer and the Captain was out cold from a concussion. Everyone else was wounded too badly to assist and so only Trust and Tryke stood to face the onslaught.

"This is Admiral Donatra of the Romulan Star Empire," a woman said, appearing on-screen.

"This is Commander Nathan Trust of the Federation starship _Invincible_," he replied, although he didn't feel invincible at the moment, "Have you come to finish the job? Or better yet, have you come to surrender?"

He heard Tryke suppress a laugh behind him and Donatra raised an eyebrow.

"I was actually here to ask if you were in need of assistance," she replied.

Trust frowned in suspicion. "Why are you offering to aid us?" he said, "Our two factions are at war."

"The governments are," she corrected, "There are some like myself who feel no hate towards the Federation. Would you like our assistance? Or I am sure I could just leave."

Trust looked at the viewscreen, not sure if this was real. Hadn't they just been battered to pieces of a Romulan fleet? But...they were in no position to turn down anything.

"Alright," he said guardedly, "Come onboard and we'll discuss how you can help us."

"Right Commander," she nodded, "Donatra out."

"I think we just caught ourselves a break," Tryke muttered when the screen turned off.

"Breaks only happen when you apply them to stop a ship," Trust muttered, "Get damage control teams moving, Adam. Let's go see if the Romulan is all she claims to be."

**Act 1**

"As you can see," Commander Trust said, leading the way through the corridor, "Your people gave us quiet a beating. If you do beam over repair crews, you will help remove the virus that one of your agents placed in our computer system."

"Depends on how advanced the computer virus is," Donatra replied, pushing aside some dead wires that hung down, "Could take a couple hours or even a day to track it down and erase it."

"Just work as fast as you can," he replied, "Oh, and they will also work on repairing our warp core and engines. They are needed."

"Okay," she nodded, "I think that can be arraigned."

"I'll also need you to beam over some medical personal," he said, glancing to see her reaction.

"Of course," she said, "How many people are we talking about we'll be treating?"

"Nurse Beltroona?" he tapped his commbadge, "How many people do we have in need of medical treatment?"

"We've got at least seventy wounded and more coming in," the Orion female doctor spoke into the comlink, "There's only the three of us including the Medical Hologram."

"I'll send a dozen healers over to assist you," Donotra said.

"You catch that?" he asked into the commbadge.

"That'll be a big help."

"Now," Donatra said, "What are you doing in the Neutral Zone?"

"I'm on a classified mission that can't fail," he said simply, stepping over to one of the few working turbolifts.

"Come now, Commander," Donatra snorted, stepping inside, "Your ship is no condition to take on anything at the moment. I'd say it's already failed."

"Let me be the judge of that," he said, the lift doors closing.

Soon they exited onto the bridge, Captain Stubbs being lowered onto his chair by Commander Tryke and Spock who were on the bridge.

"Shalom, Donatra," Spock bowed his head, "It's been a long time."

"Yes," she nodded with a small smile, "Too long."

Captain Stubbs looked back and blinked at them. "Why is there a Romulan on my ship?" he asked.

"Admiral Donatra," Trust said, "Meet Captain Stubbs, commander of this vessel."

"Captain."

"Admiral. Forgive me if I don't stand," Stubbs said, rubbing his head, a trickle of blood coming from a head wound.

"So you know this woman, Ambassador Spock?" Trust asked.

Spock nodded. "You can trust her if that is what you mean," he said, "In fact, you still owe me a few favors."

Donatra rolled her eyes. "I haven't forgotten."

"What's our status?" Stubbs asked, leaning back in the chair, wincing as he did so.

"Warp core is damaged," Tryke reported, "Engines were damaged. We still have weapons."

"Casualties?"

"Seventy plus wounded," Tryke went through the list, "Thirteen are confirmed dead. Seventy have also been captured."

"Have Merlek coordinate with Sam on getting the ship repaired," Stubbs grunted.

"He's dead," Trust said.

"Did we lose any of the rest of the Senior staff?" Stubbs sighed.

"Doctor King was among those taken," Adam said, and Trust saw him curl his hand into a fist.

"You have command, Number One," Stubbs said, "I feel like..."

Stubbs passed out in the chair, his head rolling to the side. Trust looked around at those gathered and knew the mission was in jeopardy.

"You want the truth?" he asked, turning to Donatra, "We have been assigned by the Admiralty to take out a secret project your government is working on. Codename: Starkiller. It's imperative we get Mr. Spock here to Romulus and snatch the weapon and destroy it, using the same technology that created the black hole off the port bow."

"I was wondering how that happened," she rubbed her chin, "I will take Mr. Spock to the site they are building the weapon. I was actually recently relieved of my duties of protecting the Homeworld, and I've never been a Sela supporter."

"You will take Commander Tryke with you," Trust said, "Ambassador Spock might trust you. But I don't."

"Fair enough," she shrugged, "Come now gentlemen. We must be off."

**Act 2**

"Surrender Nero. You are surrounded by the Royal Guard. Do you think your ship, a modified mining vessel could ever match twenty of the Empire's finest?"

Stulon sat on the bridge, waiting for the man to respond. But no. Nero was the sort who loved dramatics. And this silence probably filled him with a sense of grandiose. But, he had better things to do.

"_Caesar's Might_ and _Wolf Fang_," he ordered, "I want you to attack him. Disable his ship. We need the device intact. Execute attack pattern Cloak and Dagger."

Two Valore warbirds swooped forward, executing a complex manuver in which the two ships would speed forward, then one would slow. Then the other would slow and it would pick up speed. And then visa-versa, confusing the enemy to the point that when the warbirds struck out, they'd be firing at the wrong warbird, the back one being the one that would target the ship.

The _Narada_ fired a salvo and Stulon watched with growing shock as a few shots destroyed the two fine warbirds. What had just happened? The floating debris from two of his ships was anything but right.

"_Temptest Queen_ and _Zeldoran _are to cover the _Zembek_ and the _Honsolo_ in attack pattern Vega Minority," he shouted, and watched as they swooped out to attack.

"Imperator," the communications officer called out, "We are being hailed."

"Good," Stulon smiled, leaning back into his seat, "He realizes this is not his fight. Onscreen."

He started when Sela appeared on screen. "Explain to me why I have a battle taking place near my sun?" she demanded.

* * *

"We are exiting the Neutral Zone now," the helm officer reported, trying not to show his contempt for the human and Vulcan onboard the ship. "We will reach the Romulus system in two hours."

"Very good," Donatra nodded, sitting in her chair, "You two are welcome to explore the ship. Just don't touch anything and don't go into any restricted areas. As your charming Commander Trust pointed out, we are still at war. Heck, if we fail, I'll be executed for helping you two out."

"I don't think you'll find that to be the case," Spock replied, placing the tips of his fingers together.

"Better not," she said, then turning away said, "I'll alert you when we've arrived."

The two Federation men glanced at each other, than turning headed off the bridge. They proceeded to follow the corridor in a mishap direction, turning at random intervals. There was no hiding the distaste the crew felt towards them.

"I was wondering," Tryke wondered aloud, "Is she the same one that helped out then Captain Picard against Shinzon?"

"The same," Spock nodded.

"She seems to have a fetish for helping out the Federation," Tryke remarked.

"Especially humans who are always in need of help," Spock agreed.

Tryke didn't know how to take that, so they continued their walk in more or less silence.

* * *

Trust stepped into sickbay, the groans of the wounded assailing his ears. Everywhere he looked, there was barely room to maneuver between the masses of injured men and women. In a few cases, some of the crew were not injured but crying over dead comrades or lovers.

He made his way to Nurse Beltroona and was assailed as well by the natural pheromones that always leaked from her. He'd met her on only one prior occasion, but it had been enough for him to avoid her at all possible. She was...intoxicating to say the least.

"How goes the battle, Nurse?" he called out, making sure to step over the broken leg of a Bolian crewmember.

"I dearly hope there isn't a battle," she said, sweat streaking down her green face as she hurridely moved from patient to patient.

Trust frowned. "It was a joke," he said slowly.

"I'm sorry," she wiped her face, the motion making him woozy from excitement that arose because of seeing her do that, "I'm in no joking mood at the moment."

"Understood," he said, reaching out and patting her shoulder. It made him shudder in delight and turning he strode out, hoping to escape the pheromones and natural feelings he had.

**Act 3**

Non-essential personnel were still restricted to quarters, making the task of fixing up the _Invincible_ on one hand easier and the other hand harder. Easier because those who did know how to work with the tools could work unhindered, but harder because roughly three hundred crew-members that could have been helping weren't.

But, as Trust stepped up to Mollen, who was helping work on the warp core, he realized that without the help of thirty Romulan engineers that had beamed over, they never would get done in a timely fashion.

"How much longer until we can leave?" he asked.

"According to Lt. Taxer," Mollen said, his hands disappeared as they worked some chips, "We should have impulse in three hours. But, unless we can get that virus out, it's going to be a lot longer."

"And how goes the virus hunt?" Trust inquired.

"I have Ensign Bagle working along with the Romulans on that," he said, "And I don't know what's going to go first, the virus or Bagle's patience."

"As long as he does his job," the Commander commented with a smirk, "If we don't get up and running soon, we're not going to be able to get back the Federation space."

"Could always get towed by the Romulans," Mollen suggested with a smile, although he didn't seem in a jovial mood. In fact, he seemed quiet preoccupied.

"You okay?" Trust asked, kneeling close by him and lowering his voice.

"Sure..." Sam said, looking at him, "Why would I not be?"

"You seem..." Trust struggled for the right word, "A little on edge. Preoccupied. Almost jumpy."

"With you breathing down my neck how can't I be?" Sam muttered, turning away.

Trust scowled. "What was that, Commander?" he asked.

"Nothing sir," Sam said, reaching for a hypospanner, "As you said. Just a little on edge."

"Just get us running," Trust patted his shoulder, "And I'll tend to the rest."

* * *

"D-n you, Romulan!" Ensign Bagel snapped, the Romulans taking a long time, "Can't you just find it?"

The closest one turned to him and replied in a matter of fact, "Oh, I'm sure I can just dive right into it and find it and destroy it. But oops," she said, smashing a chip and the lights flickering, "I just damaged your ship."

Bagel shoved her hard into the wall and the other Romulan kicked backwards, connecting with his chest and making him fall. Starfleet and Romulan engineers rushed to the area to participate in the fight. Bagel was up and he was about to charge her when a body blocked him and grabbed him and her by the collar of their uniforms.

"Get back to work!" Sam snapped, stepping into the midst and grabbing, "Or else I will throw you both in the brig."

* * *

He pressed the bell and the door opened. Jamie looked up at him, concern in her eyes. And he was come to bear bad news.

"What's going on?" she asked, "I've tried to contact James all day. But he isn't responding. Why isn't he responding? Is he alright?"

Mollen looked away, sorrow in his face. "He's dead," he said.

Jamie's eyes opened wide and she stumbled back and fell onto the chair. "How...how...how?" she stammered.

"The warp core when it exploded," he said, "He was trying to carry out another wounded crewmember. I couldn't keep open the door otherwise the whole department would have been blown away. Believe me, I held it open for as long as possible. But...I had no choice."

"Just go," she said barely loud enough for him to hear.

"What?" Mollen asked, his eyes full of concern.

"Just go!" she snapped, "I need to be alone for a little while."

Sam nodded and striding to the door. As he entered the range of the motion scanner, he stopped and turned around. He looked at her, shock still too hard for her to yet cry.

"I wish things had gone differently," he admitted, the first truth he had spoken since he stepped into the quarters, "He loved you. His last thoughts were of you. He was a good man, and I wish he hadn't died. But I can't undo them."

"I know," she whispered almost too softly for him to hear, but he caught it.

And with that, he walked out and the door closed behind him.

* * *

Seven of his ships were destroyed and Imperator Stulon was getting very angry. Why could Nero just die? Was this device worth the loss of life? Sela had been so unhappy about the capturing of the device, she was on her way personally to see it returned. If she got here before he had gotten it back, he could kiss his career goodbye.

"All ships!" he ordered, "We are all going in. I want a diamond formation, one ship in front, another ship in back, and four ships in a line in the middle. I will take the rear, to make sure we all get there. Now move!"

The ships lurched forward and swept towards the attack. They weren't going to let the scum get away this time. The piecemeal attacks hadn't worked, and this full-out assault was their last hope. Sweeping at full impulse, he watched as the first warbird was destroyed before it entered weapons range. The middle line got just shortly ahead of where the first ship had gone done, when the two middle warbirds erupted in fiery glory.

"Sweep around either flank and hit them from the sides!" he ordered, "I'm going straight up the middle."

The two warbirds splinted off and making wide turns headed for the middle. The _Narada _fired heavy salvos at both warbirds, and while they were able to deflect most of the missiles, the right one's bridge was destroyed and the remaining rest of the ship slammed into the side of the _Narada_, massive explosions ripping through the side. The other warbird's middle exploded, one of its wings hitting and deflecting of the _Narada_.

"We've got them!" Stulon shouted, slamming his fists on his armrests.

"They are turning their aft to us and heading towards the sun," the weapons officer reported, "They are retreating sir."

"No you fools!" Stulon shouted, "He's going to deploy the weapon! Stop him! Fire everything we have!"

"But sir, at this range we'll do minimal damage," the weapons officer replied.

"We have to or we're all dead!" he barked.

"If I may remind the Imperator," the Commander of the ship dared speak, "We wanted to take the weapon intact. Aren't you overreacting a little?"

Stulon pulled out his disruptor and blasted away the Commander and he fell dead. "I'd rather have to answer hard questions then be dead!" he snapped, "Destroy the _Narada_!"

The _Horkomo_ sped as fast as it could, firing as fast as they could. Small pinpricks of light showed where they struck, but the damage was negligible at this distance.

**Act 4**

"Alright," Spock said, standing up from the torpedo, the Romulans watching him curiously, "I don't know if we'll be able to take the weapon intact. So, this is the back up. If we need to, we'll fire this torpedo and we will be able to knock out the Starkiller."

"Excuse me," the Romulan munitions officer asked, "How often have you done such...well, surgeries to torpedoes?"

"Twice," Spock nodded, "Once during the Khitomer Accords and the other earlier today to swallow a good portion of the Romulan fleet."

"Sorry, I asked," the officer muttered and the rest of the crew chuckled.

"_Spock and Commander Tryke to the Bridge_."

"As the humans would say," Spock said, with a dip of the head, "It's been a slice. Love to stay but gotta go."

Tryke followed Spock as he left the torpedo bay. He looked at Spock and found his an odd Vulcan. Especially his odd behavior. He was perhaps the most famous of Vulcans, second only to Serak. And yet...

"You seem quiet taken by humans," he pointed out.

"Humans are an irrational and illogical race," Spock shook his head and let out an exasperated sigh, "They barely made it to the stars before they started to pick fight. Annoying and self-righteous. But, my best friends have all been humans. Most Vulcans considered me outcast for being half-human. I am not your typical Vulcan."

"You have done well for yourself however," Tryke remarked, "That's got to count for something."

"Sometimes," Spock said, and they entered the bridge.

"We are coming out of Warp speed in a few seconds," Donatra reported, "I assume you'll want to be present on the bridge to look upon our fair system."

"I've been here before," Spock reminded her, "It'll be the same as it's always been."

"Dropping out of hyperspace now," Helm reported and they dropped into the Romulan star system.

* * *

Seven planets were in the Romulan star system. Rubicon, Remes, Romulus, Tiberius, Tiber, Attica and Gaul. None of these planet had less than a million living people on them. Even on Rubicon there was a million, three hundred thousand that lived on the dark side of the planet, the light side being too close to the sun for survival purposes. Roughly seventy-seven million lived within the seven planets.

Most didn't care for the war. They were just business people, making an honest living. They were family men and mothers, or lovers. Some were even entering the Temples of Matrimony to be joined by the Romulan Gods approval for wedlock. But, at roughly 1700 Romulus Standard Time, that all changed. The sky suddenly went dark, as if clouds had passed over the sun. And then, the sky brightened as if they were under the glow of high intensity lights. And within seconds, Rubicon exploded.

* * *

"Warp 9!" Stulon shouted, "Now!"

His ship barely escaped, but even as they jumped into warp speed their warp bubble collapsed, and only by the fact that they had been in a warp bubble did they manage to escape, because it collapsed on the back half of the wave.

* * *

Sela saw the supernova, and it was hard to tell who held more wroth. The dying star or the Empress herself. She had more time to escape, a mere thirty seconds, but it was enough for her to give the order.

"Warp 9," she said, her demeanor a coldness that made all shrivel.

"Where?" helm asked and she screamed, "Anywhere!"

They also escaped just in time to avoid being blasted apart by the shockwave.

* * *

"My -" Tryke's jaw slackened. He who had seen planets assimilated. He who had done terrible deeds. Even he was stunned by the sheer destruction and power that was destroying one by one the planets of the Romulus system.

"No!" Donatra shouted as Romulus was blown away, taking twenty-one million lives with it, "No! No!"

"We need to fire the torpedo," Spock said, standing beside her.

But she was so stunned that two more planets were swept away. She was too stunned. Everyone was paralyzed in horror at the genocide being played out before them.

"We need to fire the torpedo!" Spock shouted, hoping someone would move.

But the weapons officer was slack. Tryke rushed forward and threw him aside as the surface of the sixth planet began to crisscross in red hot lines. He still had the schematics for Romulan warbirds in his mind from one of the many Romulans he had personally assimilated and pressed the button to launch the torpedo.

With a flash the torpedo hurled out, racing to met the shockwave before it reached Gaul. It met it just seconds from Gaul and exploded, sucking the supernova in as the blackhole grew larger and larger. But, even in this the supernova lashed out with vengeance. A flame of it just briefly touched the atmosphere and instantly the world was set aflame, the whole world lighting up like a burning eye in space. Within a minute, the entire world was a burned out shell.

"Were there any survivors?" Donatra asked slowly, and the science officer began making scans.

"One ship," he reported, "Near where Rubicon is...was located."

"One ship?" she asked, her eyes blinking in disbelief, "Out of seventy-seven million, only one ship survives? What type of ship is it?"

"Military," he reported slowly, his voice deadpan, "It's ID names it, the _Horkomo_. The Imperator is alive, or so we can hope."

"Hope?" Tryke asked, "Your too optimistic. Your home system just died. And you think that maybe a couple hundred is a success?"

"Let's go to him," Donatra said, her eyes unblinking, "And maybe be able to work out this madness."

**Act 5**

"Good Heavens," Admiral Janeway said, although she didn't seem to be too stunned by the news, "This will cause the Romulans to turn on themselves. Well, Captain, we've caught a lucky break."

"It only cost over seventy million lives," Stubbs said, his head still hurting despite being healed, "Not to mention the lives of many members of my crew."

"A small price to pay for victory," Janeway pointed out, "They were willing to kill millions themselves. I don't mean to sound callous, but, the Romulans have been asking for this. They've gotten what they deserve. Nothing more or less."

Stubbs could not figure out Janeway's attitude. All she could think of was black and white. It seemed she had no concept of morality. Or, what she did know was a precursory glance without taking a look at an inner definition.

"Congratulations on a job well done," she said, "I'll expect you will be returning to port for repairs."

"We'll need them," he admitted, "And new senior staff."

"I think something can be arraigned," she said, "Janeway out."

Stubbs leaned back, grateful that at least his chair and computer weren't broken. Too much else had.

* * *

"We are gathered here today to remember our fallen that have died in battle," Stubbs said, standing over the torpedo coffins of twenty men and women, "Their sacrifice was not in vain. It was not in vain, because the device that would have killed billions is no longer here. They sacrificed themselves for the most basic truth of the Federation. All beings are created equal. And at this time, we commend their souls to Almighty God and commend their bodies, to the depths of space."

One by on the torpedo tubes were laid on the torpedo ramp and launched. And he named them, each and every one of them as they launched.

"Crewman Taylor Wanket, of Texas."

"Crewman Lizzay Crinket, of Lunar Colony."

"Crewmen Benjamin Denatra, of Risa."

"Crewmen Samuel David, of Colorado."

"Crewman Bilgo, of Tellar Prime."

"Crewman Zandera, of Andoria."

"Crewman Beavis Butthead, of Mexico."

"Crewman Justin Beiber, of California."

"Crewman Derrible, of Organia."

"Ensign Patrick Seward, of England."

"Ensign Parish Milks, of Epsilon 3."

"Ensign Bar Globes, of Bajor."

"Ensign Orok, of Orion Minor."

"Ensign Sabrine Tran, of Trill."

"Ensign Tra Gildor, of Bajor."

"Lt. Markus Keffer, of Betazed."

"Lt. Turvo, of Vulcan."

"Transporter Chief James Gardner, of Ireland."

"Chief Science Officer, Lt. Commander Merlek, of Vulcan."

"Admiral Kyle Harmon, of Idaho."

* * *

"I thought the Doc said you weren't supposed to be up and about," Tryke said, moving up to Jonathon, who stood leaning against the back wall.

"So many dead," he shook his head, not sure if sadness or weariness was making him ashen faced, "I had to be here. Why did we shoot Admiral Harmon out into space? He could have been sent back. Or any of them."

"Admiral Harmon always said, 'If I die in space, I want to make sure people have to notice I'm there by going around me'," Tryke chuckled, "As for Merlek, which I'm supposing you were asking about him, he didn't ever want to go home. He left Vulcan to escape, and wanted to be buried among the stars."

"Seems a shame," Lendon said, "But at least Ashley made it out fine. So that's something. The only good thing."

"Yeah," Adam sighed, "She did."

Lendon at once felt embarrassed at the unintended slight on his part. "I'm sorry sir. I didn't mean..."

"Don't sweat it," Tryke counseled, "You have your girl, that's the only thing that truly matters. Passion comes so rarely. Touch it when you can, and hold onto it."

* * *

Trust sat in his quarters, filling out his official report. He'd done his best. He knew he had. But...there was so much that he couldn't put into words. The one thing he didn't know how to describe was what happened on the transport tube after he had been left alone.

His mind flashed back: _A Romulan was squirming, the phaser rifle jammed inside him. And he wouldn't stop moving. So, Nathan bent down, and grabbing the neck of the Romulan proceeded to strangle him. But, when the Romulan had died, he had still squeezed, until the bones had broken, and then had proceeded in an uncharacteristic fashion, and breaking every bone he could find. Lifting up arm, snapping a bone. One by one he had broken them. Leg bones, arm bones, shoulder blades. _

And the real problem was, he had no idea why he had done this. And even worse than that...he had enjoyed it.


	2. Episode 2: MACO

**Episode 2: M.A.C.O.**

**Teaser**

We haven't seen action in a long time. We are the forgotten branch of the military. Our presence in history has been muddy since the earliest days of the Federation. Back when it was the Coalition of Planets.

Many have tried to forget us. Many have tried to disband us. But, we won't go down so easily.

Vulcan lay before us like a sandy ball in space. Because that's what it is. We've got a few good people, and Starfleet isn't exactly a bad egg. But, as we fly into action, we know that like the United States Marines of old, we are the Proud. We are the Few. We are M.A.C.O.

**Act 1**

_Captain's Personal log - Stardate 64043.3938: We are in space dock at McKinley Station above Earth, making some much needed repairs to the _Invincible_. I can't believe a year has already passed by since I've made new friends are re-met old enemies. But, I am looking forward to being able to go home to see my children._

"So what do you plan on doing while we have time off?" Ensign Lendon asked as they headed towards the main reception area of McKinley Station.  
"I'll be lounging about up here I guess," Tryke replied as they walked past the Stations post office. Imagine that, even with all the technology in the Universe at their disposal, they still felt the need to send letters back and forth. "There's nothing down there for me."

"Oh," he shrugged, "Well, I'll be joining Ashley down on Earth. Her family hails from Rexburg, Idaho. Says her family is eager to meet me."

Tryke shuddered. "There were a few women I dated after I was..." he bit his lower lip, a dark cloud passing over his face, "liberated. Hated meeting the parents. Never could do anything right."

"I've gone out with a few women I'll admit," Jonathon said, trying to relieve some the awkward silence that had arisen. Commander Tryke had learned that Jonathon knew of his past, but he still didn't like talking about it.

"But-" Tryke inquired, feeling the other shoe waiting to drop.

"I'm thinking of asking her to marry me," he finally said, feeling it just drop out of him like a bomb shell.

"It's not even been three months yet," Tryke snorted, heading towards the bar.

"I know," he said quickly, "And it wouldn't be yet, not for a while yet. But...I can't describe it. It's just-"

"Well," Tryke shrugged, slapping the bar table to get the Andorian bar-tenders' attention, "Happiness and long life."

* * *

Stubbs threw his bag over his shoulder, in his civilian clothing. He was dressed in a polo shirt and slacks, wearing vintage 20th Century Nike sneakers. He also had a baseball cap flopped on his head. He had the chance to get out his uniform, and he wanted to go home looking as natural as possible for all his little ones.

Heading towards the door his comlink chirped. He rolled his eyes and tapped it.

"What is it?" he asked, "Better not be anything important."

"Admiral Paris is on the line for you, sir hewm-on," Lt. Jamoon, the Nausican Officer on Watch said, before they switched over to the repair crews, "Says it is important."

"Alright," he rolled his eyes. "Patch it through to my quarters."

He stepped over to the viewscreen and touched the panel that would activate the message. "Receive Transmission, Authorization, Stubbs Joshua, Captain."

The screen flicked to show the old and worn out face of Admiral Owen Paris. The years hadn't been overly kind to the old man, and he looked older then he really was. But, he still held that air of command from experience.

"What can I do for you Admiral?" he asked, "I was on my way down to McKinley Station to be transferred Earth-side."

"All Starfleet Captains in Sectors 001, 002, 003 and 004 are to report immediately to Starfleet Headquarters for Top Priority Briefing at 0715 hours."

He looked at his chronometer and saw that it was 0710. "That doesn't leave me enough time to change back into uniform," he objected.

"Never mind that. See you there," he said, "Starfleet out."

Stubbs threw his bag quiet angrily at the bed. Why was this always happening to him? Just for once it'd be nice to visit with his family!

* * *

"Made it just in time," a Bajoran female captain snorted as Stubbs stepped up, "Nice clothes."

"Whatever Neren," he rolled his eyes, feeling out of place among the sixteen captains in the room. He was the only one in civilian clothing, although Captain Maxii, a Trill captain of the _USS Besteen_ looked as if he was going to be sick.

"What's wrong with Maxii?" he said, "He was as healthy as an ox back in the Academy."

"Recently joined with a symbiot," Captain Neren answered.

There was no more time for pleasantries as Admiral Paris walked out from behind a massive divider with the emblem of the Federation held up high. He had a notepad in his hands and he stepped up to the podium.

"Take your seats," he ordered, and the Stubbs and Neren took the closest seats and sat down.

"I realize you all wouldn't mind be getting back to what you are doing but this can't wait," Paris said, "As you all know, our space was invaded three months ago by the Borg. After shattering our forces at Betazed and assimilating most of the population, the Borg inexplicably stayed more or less put. We don't know why they did this, but we've kept a close eye on them ever since.'

"But, over the past week, we have lost five Starfleet vessels to a single Borg cube. Now, we aren't sure whether it's the same one or if it's different cubes, the Borg's love of their cube shapes. But, we've been able to anticipate with a fifty-fifty certainty of where they will hit next."

"Excuse me, sir!" a hand shot up and Stubbs glanced and saw Captain Ezri Dax-Bashir stand up. He had known Captain Dax briefly after she took command of the _USS Aventine_ after an accident killed the Captain, First and Second officers.

"Yes, Captain?" he asked.

"How can you know for certain where they will strike?" she asked, "Even a fifty-fifty? They had what, over ninety Borg Cubes at Betazed? They could strike anywhere."

"True," Paris said, "But their attacks have been located between two planetary systems of great import to the Federation. Vulcan and Andoria."

This piqued his interest. Those were two of the four remaining build-up zones, each of them having over two hundred ships. But, if the slaughter at Betazed was any indication, it was just that much greater of a buffet for the ever hungry Borg.

"Have we figured out why the Borg are using their current tactics?" Captain Dilbarnk of the Galaxy-Class _Twitter Is Dead_ asked.

"We don't," Paris said, "But, I think we should focus more of driving the Borg out then understanding the change of tactics. But, considering how each battle has resulted in a quick defeat against the Borg, we are turning to a new source to combat them. General Servak."

Out from behind the divider stepped a Vulcan in the commando green and grey uniform of the MACOs. He looked around the room, his disdain for Starfleet all to evident. Didn't help that Admiral Janeway had disbanded the MACOs and it wasn't until a near coup before she relented and let them stay on at half strength.

"Gentlemen and women," he said with a snort, "If you aren't the sloppiest excuses for sentient life I've ever seen."

**Act 2**

Trust sat with feet propped against the table, watching on the big vidscreen the local football game. There was so much that had been lost with the invention of warpspeed. But good old American Football had remained. They were entering the third quarter, with the Vulcan Mind-Readers leading the Orion Sundancers 28 to 14. He was a United American Teamer himself, but he had to admit, Vulcans did make good running backs.

A Vulcan fumbled out of bounds, and he watched the referee, a Tellarite make ready to make the call. He was expecting him to call third down, but he called out instead, "First Down."

"What!" he bellowed, his reaction mixing with at least seven others, "That was so out of bounds and a fumble! You lousy piece of-"

"I'd watch you language," Councilor Grax said, standing behind him, "Don't want to set a bad example for the crew."

"It's not like they haven't heard it before," he grumbled, "Have a seat?"

"This isn't a pass is it?" she asked.

"No, it was a fumble," Trust chuckled.

"The crew seems to think I'm something to be hit upon," she said, "And I just want to-"

"Sit down, Councilor," Trust said and pointed to the chair, "Besides, I know you're a lesbian."

"I'm not a lesbian," she rolled her eyes, taking the offered chair.

She sat down and turned to watch the football game. She winced as two played smashed each other head on, and the Vulcan simply ran roughshod all over the Orion. Shaking her head she remarked, "I have no idea what you find so appealing about such a barbaric sport."

"Should go back and visit Rome," he said dismissively, "They had gladiatorial games. Fight to the death."

"Humans are a truly barbaric people," she kept shaking her head.

"That's why you love us so," he chuckled.

A few seconds passed as they watched the game. Finally, Jemma spoke again.

"I'm a little concerned," she said.

"Don't be," he said, "The Orions won't catch up anytime soon."

"No," she shook her head, "About you."

"Me?" he glanced at the Betazoid.

"I've noticed you never interact with the crew or seem to be...well, you haven't been on a single date since we left spacedock a year ago, you never have participated in any of the ships social events. You have even less friends than Adam does."

Nathan's mood darkened. "Don't mention that fool to me," he muttered, "He's a bad egg. You mark my words."

"Basically sir," she said, "You don't even communicate with anyone outside of the ship. You are a recluse."

"How I spend my time is my own affair," he replied, "You have no need to worry."

"You have to confide in someone," Jemma retorted, "Even the Captain talks to me from time to time."

"A senior officer must not allow his feelings to runaway with him," he said, "Or let himself be percieved as anything but a perfect being in which one can judge their own worth."

"That's not how I was taught," she said.

"Well, that who I am," he muttered, "And besides, no woman would have me even if I wanted to."

"I wouldn't be so sure," she assured him, "I know of several women on the crew who find you quiet dashing."

Trust snorted, "As if. Please, if you are going to shrink me, do so in a private session. Not out here."

Jemma looked at him a few seconds, then standing to her feet walked away, leaving Trust to watch the game alone.

* * *

The _USS Julius Caesar _patrolled the edge of Vulcan space, it's Captain, a Benzite named Molgor, sitting on the bridge, watching with a sense of satisfaction the operational efficiency of the crew. When the Vulcan Captain, Jo'pa retired to return to his studies on Vulcan, Molgar had become Captain, transferring from the _USS Robert E. Lee_. He never understood the need for most species to name thier ships after the dead. Ships were not even named after people on his world. They were named after stars, cities and countries. But this...sounded too Macabre to him.

But, he was not about to change the name. His studies had shown efficiency improved with attachments to ships. If he changed the name, it would be disruptive to say the least. He had unfortunate experience with this on the _Lee_. He had only wanted to rename the shuttle _Clarkstown_ to the Runabout _Benzite_. It had not gone over well and it had taken his patient captain explaining why he couldn't do that.

But now he was in charge. And his ship ran perfectly.

"Captain, sir," the science officer reported, "We are getting strange readings in sector 0 by 2."

"Show it onscreen and magnify," he ordered.

The viewscreen turned on and he saw something that made his blood chill.

"Alert fleet command," he said, as the power began to flicker and glow green.

"_Everything is dead!"_ his chief engineering reported to the bridge, his signal dying mid his next word.

_"We are the Borg. Resistance is futile."_

Act 3

"_Commander Tryke_," a voice called out over the intercom in the rec area of Station McKinley, "_Please report to _USS Alamo_. Crewman Dexter Pathogy. Please report to _USS Dawn Treader_. Ensign Jonas Hawkes. Please report to _USS Malestrom_. Please report to the transporter room to be transported._"

Tryke looked up from the Romulan ale he had been drinking. What was he needed for? He stood up and headed towards the exit, following an ensign out. He made his way to the transporter room and watched as the ensign was transported off.

"You have any idea what's up?" he asked as he made his way to the transporter pad.

"No sir," the transporter chief stated. Simple and to the point. He soon felt himself being transported and appeared on a ship. He stepped off the transporter pad.

"What's going on-" and he stopped as he saw the green and black uniforms of MACO.

"Welcome to the _USS Alamo_," a man with a beret on top said, "You are Commander Adam Tryke?"

"Last I checked," he said, glancing around at the grey, black and green colors. He had never been on a MACO ship before, but it at once invoked a cold militaristic feel to it that the lighter tones of a Starfleet vessel.

"I am Lt. Nazzek," the Risian man said, "You feel like you're up to Borg hunting?"

"Always up for that," he shrugged and followed him out of the transporter room.

* * *

Jonathon stepped out of the transporter hub station in the sleepy town of Rexburg, Idaho. He didn't know anything about the history of this town, but while it had once started out like all Western United States cities had (small and fairly uninteresting) it now hosted over a hundred thousand people, and the whole Snake River Valley had been halfway overrun by the populace. Idaho Falls had grown from the 50,000 of the early 21st Century to nearly 200,000 by then. And the small town of Rigby and grown to the point it had merged with another small town, Ririe and what had once been a combined 2,000 people had grown to 20,000.

But, he felt very extremely small and fairly intimidated as he grabbed the hand of his girlfriend, who was more than eager to show her family her new boyfriend. She dragged him along down the streets that would lead to her home. After a short time they had made it to the vintage 20th Century building that was her home. She opened the door to her house and stepped inside, dragging him with her.

Her father was bent over a padd, making note. Her mother was in the kitchen, washing the dishes. Odd, Jonathon frowned. There was no replicators here.

It was her little brother, laying on the floor and reading the newest reprint of Spider-Man comics who first noticed his older sister.

"Chrap!" he groaned, "There's trouble."

"Whatever," she teased, "Still seeing you are messing your time with antique comic-book junk."

"Oh," her mother said, dropping her washcloth and walking over, wrapping her daughter in a big hug, "Can't be here one minute before bickering with your brother? That's a new record even for you."

"Well if it isn't Daddy's princess," her father said cheerfully, pushing himself off the couch and walking with a heavy limp to his daughters side and giving her a kiss on the forehead. It was then they noticed Jonathon who was standing off to the side, feeling very out of place.

"Who's the creep?" her brother asked and she whacked him upside the head.

"Get out," her father growled, "I'll have no young man courting my daughter."

Courting? He frowned. That went out with slavery. He was sure of that.

"I don't understand," he frowned.

"Oh, you will understand this," he said, lifting a phaser.

"Daddy?" Ashley said, "What are you doing?"

"Your father is right," her mother said, "You've already been raped by two old boyfriends. We aren't about to allow a third to get a chance."

"Get going," her father said, growling and shoving the phaser into his chest, "Get out or I'll vaporize you."

"Sorry for the trouble," he said, "I'll be going."

"No!" Ashley stamped her foot, "Daddy, he's not like the others. He's very sweet-"

"As they all are," her father said, "I'll give you to the count of ten to get your stinking, filthy carcass out of here."

Jonathon turned to bolt through the door. "One, two...ten!" He felt the punch in his back and he blacked out.

* * *

"The Borg have been able to circumvent Starfleet's systems, hijack them and then blast the bejeebes out of them with no resistance," Major Nelek said, his Andorian skin seemed almost out of place in his MACO uniform, "So, the Admiralty got in touch with the Commanding General and devised a plan. We attack the Borg, and hopefully they won't be able to hack our systems. Do you agree, Commander?"

"It's ambitious if not anything else," Tryke said, feeling the assimilation tubules under his glove and he rubbed his hands in thoughtfulness, "Starfleet and MACO I believe have roughly the same computer systems. So, it wouldn't be all that hard for them to crack your encryption codes."

"Our Chief Engineer says that it won't be a problem," Naazek said haughtily, "He says we'll be just fine. He has an idea of linking the computers in such a way that they can work independently. And if one system starts getting hacked, we can immediately sever the link to the rest of the ships computers."

Tryke nodded. "Ingenious," he conceded, "But let me ask you something? What if they hit all systems at once?"

"We have a backup plan," Nelek said, "Don't worry Pink Skin, I have no wish to go on a suicide and fool's errand."

* * *

"The Borg hit all our liberated drones and then our telepaths," Stubbs said, standing in front of a bunch of MACO officers, "Knocked them out and wound up tying up crewmembers as they'd try to restrain them. The liberated were hit during travel and the telepaths upon arriving at Betazed."

"How do you propose we fight them then?" a Vulcan Colonel asked, "A third of my crew are telepaths."

"Doctor King before her abduction was working on a theory that suggested that if we put them under until we get there, say maybe two minutes and then revived them, besides being a little groggy, they'd all be able to perform. And in the case of any liberated Borg you might have, you might be able to revive them upon exiting warp speed."

"Interesting," another man, a Captain said, leaning back in his chair, "We'll be able to give it a try at least."

"Either way," General Servak said, sitting near Stubbs, "We will go in and do our duty."

**Act 4**

"We just lost all communications with the fleet surrounding Vulcan," Private First Class Gary Mandell called from his post at the front of the ship, "It's probably a safe bet they are under attack."

"Very well," Major Nelek said, wondering if this was how Starfleet felt before going into battle, at the helm of their ships. But no, unlike the circular and curved patterns favored by Starfleet, these looked nothing if not like the old Aircraft Carriers of Earth before the unification. They also had shuttles that looked like old Army tanks, with one main gun to fight against capitol ships and anti-fighter guns on top.

"Doctor Hendricks," he called to the medlab, "Have you put our crewmembers under?"

"_Just finished putting Sergeant Minx under_," he replied, his old voice telling, "_D-n Denobulan wouldn't go under._"

"Sounds about right," he grunted, "Helm, set course for Vulcan. Maximum warp."

"Aye, aye, sir," the grunt said, moving his hands over the controls, "Going to warp now."

* * *

Jonathon slowly awoke, blinking as the sun burned bright in his eyes. He felt himself being dragged, and glancing around saw he was on the street leading to the transport pad.

"About time your awake," he heard Ashley huff and she laid him on the ground.

"You dragged me all the way here?" he asked, slowly pushing up to a sitting position, watching a vintage Ford Explorer go zooming down the road. It amazed him that there were still gasoline vehicles out and about. But, then again, it helped that the monetary system was gone and so few people drove that those who did drive didn't have to wait forever for gas.

"Yes, I did," Ashley said, sitting by him, the front of her shirt drenched in sweat making a 'V' shape, "And you are a lot heavier then you look."

"Why?" he asked.

"Don't ask me," she said, "I'm not responsible for your eating habits."

"No," he shook his head, "Why did you drag me from the house?"

"I love you Johnny," she said, caressing his cheek, "And while I've dated a bunch of people, and despite those horrible events in my life, I realize you don't deserve such treatment. You are my everything, Jonathon Lendon."

He smiled and grabbing her hand pressed it in between his hands. "I have a question to ask," he said, "And I realize this wasn't exactly how I wanted to do it, but, here we are."

* * *

"Dropping out of Warp Speed...now," the grunt said, pushing a button and dropping him out of warp.

And what greeted their eyes was terrible. Five Borg cubes were bearing down on the planet, tractor beams pulling in ships. Any ship that touched the Borg Cubs began to be dissolved, assimilated into the main Cubes. A few Starfleet vessels were firing, but these ships were blasted away by green bolts of plasma that disintegrated hulls. Ground to space batteries were firing, yellow bolts flying spaceward from Vulcan, only to be absorbed by adapted shields.

"Bridge to medlab," Colonel Zimbawa said, his deep tenor voice sounding like he was speaking from a deep place.

"_Yeah, Colonel?_"

"Have you started waking our Borg friends?"

"_No_," he replied, "_Why?_"

A Borg cube started turning towards them. And began to accelerate.

"We are going to need them."

* * *

Foosball. Perhaps one of the greatest board games ever made. Several members of the _Invincible_ crew were playing. Sam Mollen, Jamie Gardener, and two others. The small plastic players went flying it seemed, spiraling in an attempt to throw the ball back.

Trust moved over to the bar, feeling very much alone. No, he wanted to be here. Alone, drink his drink, and feel sour over the Vulcan's win over the Sundancers. That last quarter they had dominated the field and he felt that the Orions had simply given up.

"This is no fair!" one of the opposite crew said, "It's bad enough you keep scoring, but now you resort to cheating?"

"Give it up, Swavee," Sam grinned, "It's not my fault you are just a lousy player."

The ensign kicked the table and stormed off and his teammate looked after him and tried desperately to talk him back. Jemma slide in by him and looked at his cup.

"Well, well," she said, "Still around here I see."

"Repairs of the _Invincible_ are well underway," he said, "Might as well stay nearby."

"If I were you," she suggested, "I'd spend some time with the crew. Relax."

"There's time to relax when I'm dead," he lifted the cup and drank a bit more synthehol.

"If I were you," Jemma said, "I'd go spend some time with Nurse Beltroona. She was saying she thinks you're really cute."

"Are you matchmaker now?" Trust snapped, getting a little peeved about Councilor Grax not leaving him alone.

"Hey Commander!" the ensign called out, "I just lost my teammate. I need a new guy."

Something inside him snapped and standing up stormed over to him, glaring at the small man.

"Guy?" he hissed. "Guy!? What do you think I am, Ensign? Your buddy? Your pal? Your mate? I am a superior officer, you worthless pile of flesh! Listen, all of you! When you two are done pretending like you are grieving so you can f-k each other, when you leave Starfleet to do whatever the freak you were doing, I'll still be here! In Starfleet. Cursing every day the day they disbanded the military aspect of the Fleet while preparing for the next big war."

"Commander-"

"Shut up, Councilor!" he snapped, "I am not something to be shrinked! I am not your concern! I'm not a case study for human hormonal patterns."

And he spun to stare at the Nurse, sitting stunned, "And I am not a mark in a singles bar!" And with that, he stormed from the room, leaving them by themselves.

* * *

A massive tachyon beam fired from the three ship assault fleet and the Borg shields collapsed. At the same time, they fired several large nuclear warhead that compacted with the hull, ruptured in massive explosions that mushroomed outwards. The multiple strikes destroyed the ship in a flash of green and yellow lights.

The second Borg Cube also succumbed to a similar fate. The third one's shields collapsed, but they swiftly raised them. But not before a massive combined strike team from the three ships transported onboard.

Adam and Stubbs were in the lead of their teams and they pressed forward. Borg drones turned around bends, firing green plasma bolts from wrist launchers. The Hive clearly expected it to follow regular combat with the Federation, and the first few shots came from Starfleet officers wielding phasers and drones collapsed. But, as certain as the sun rising the Borg adapted.

But just then, the Starfleet officers would move aside and MACO would step in. Their guns were slug throwers, assault rifles much akin to the old assault weapons of Earth's nation-state militaries. The Borg couldn't adapt and they MACO's drove forward, gunning down drone after drone and clearing them as if they were so many wheat. Once ammunition run out, they'd switch to pistols or those trained in bladed weapons would pull out swords and as ridiculous as it sounded, would slice off limbs of drones.

Stubbs and Tryke's met up at an intersection and the MACO's drove onward, gunning down drones with the sounds of machine gunfire.

"Why didn't Starfleet ever give us these weapons?" Stubbs asked as a group of flanking Borg drones were shot down and they fell over the side of the upper catwalk down the deep abyss towards the bottom of the cube.

"You would think that'd be a priority, wouldn't you, sir." Tryke asked, stepping back as a Bolian MACO flew backwards from a hit.

As they arrived at force-fields, liberated Borg would dash through them and deactivate them. More than one panicked at hearing the voices again in their minds.

_"Cease you assault at once. Or you will be exterminated."_

They soon were at the central plexus, and the MACOs swarmed the room, gunfire going off and they soon cleared the room and were holding the corridors off against drones that were coming towards them in long lines. Tryke and the other liberated drones went to work, accessing the central computer. But, even as they worked, their away teams were being whittled away by Borg fire.

"Anytime would be good, Commander!" Stubbs said, firing continually modulating phaser fire down one entrance-way that had lost all their men.

"And here we are!" Tryke shouted, and suddenly, all the drones stopped moving on the ship, each deactiving from a command in the central plexus.

The three Borg ships bore down on the MACO ships, cutting through their hulls as the shields failed. But the MACO forces continued a heavy assault, firing to keep the Borg at bay. But, then suddenly, the right most Borg cube began to fire upon the others, and before they had a chance to react, shields were failing and massive ruptures were crippling them. The MACO didn't wait but concentrated all their firepower on one Borg cube, and after it vanished, switched to the other Borg cube.

**Act 5**

"Repairsss to the _Invincible_ are nearing completion, Captain," the main engineer of McKinley Station said, "You'll have to give it a wag and a ssshake, but it ssshould be asss good asss new."

"She's a tough old ship alright," Stubbs said, leaning on the railing and looking at the oval saucer section of his beloved ship. As a child he had always been wierded out by those geeks that loved their computers more than say sports or women. But, then he had joined Starfleet and had been given command of ships. That cleared up any questions on that particular matter in his mind.

"Know what you are going to do next?" the Caitian asked, wagging his furry head.

"Probably end up being sent to Vulcan to cleanup," Stubbs said, "We managed to save about fourteen ships, but we'll need to help upgrade their computers to the system the MACO's used, which was quiet good actually."

"Very nice," he nodded, "But at any rate, you'll probably need a full crew."

"We should be getting our new officers soon," he replied, "I must be off. Just keep me apprised of your progress."

"Aye, Sssir," the feline saluted him casually.

* * *

The ship soon was finished being repaired and they began moving back onto the ship. Jonathon and Ashley wended their way to Stubbs as the Captain was heading towards the bridge.

"Captain, sir," Jonathon called out.

"Mr. Lendon," he nodded, "What can I do for you?"

"Well," he said, holding his girls hands in his, "I was wondering if you would be willing to marry us."

"I'm sorry, Lendon," Stubbs shook his head.

"Why not sir?" he asked, looking a little floored.

"Because I am already married," he said, causing his crewmembers to laugh, "Of course I will. When are you getting married?"

"We plan to wait two months and then get married," Ensign Session said.

"Wise decision," Stubbs nodded, "Make sure you actually want to get married to this loser."

* * *

"Excuse me, Councilor," Commander Tryke said, walking up to Jemma as she prepared to go into her office, "Can I speak with you?"

"My, my," she mockingly chided, "The great and powerful Commander Tryke has decided to lower himself to talk to me?"

"First time for everything," he said, "I really need to talk to you."

She looked up at him and using only her empathic gifts could feel his sincerity. And his confusion. And anger. And loneliness. And everything boiled into once.

"Come on in," she said, the door hissing open, "And you can have a full hour to tell me everything on your mind."

* * *

Nathan stood with his arms folded, arms closed. Heavy ACDC played in his quarters, almost so loud he didn't hear anything. Drowned in "Rock and Roll Damnation". He looked out between the big arms of the station and looked down upon Earth.

He heard a chime at his door and turned down his music and towards the door said, "Enter."

The door slid open and in stepped Nurse Beltroona. She looked a little downcast. But, he continued to stare through the window. And obviously her reflection did her Orion body much justice.

"Commander Trust?" she asked, and waited for him to acknowledge he was there. But, after a few seconds she said, "I have come to apologize. I shouldn't have had Councilor Grax come to talk to. I should have myself. Sir? Are you listening?"

"I'm listening nurse," he said, still not looking towards her, "Do you have anything else you'd like to say?"

"Permission to speak freely, sir?" she asked.

"Why not." He shrugged.

"It appears to me that you confide in no one and have no real friends. Colleagues, yes. But I've never seen you do anything with anyone."

"Keeping an eye on me Nurse?" he asked.

"I'm just observant," she said, "And while I might never be a lover of yours, I'd like to become someone you can speak with."

Trust felt a sudden desire to at least share the reason why he never got close to anyone. He turned towards her and said, "Listen, I don't know why, but I'll let you know. I am a murderer."

"No you're not," she tried to not giggle but the look from him cut her off.

"Most of those I've ever been close to have died around me," he said, "Friends, family and lovers. I know I can't be lovers with anyone, because they'll die."

"What's the point of life without risk, sir?" she asked, frowning.

"Risks should not be shared by anyone but one's self," he said.

The Orion nurse blinked her eyes twice. "What right do you have to say what someone will be willing to accept? Commander, if someone wants you, it's because they are willing to accept the risks that comes with it. You can't just say, no, because you are too cowardly to let others make their own decisions."

"Decisions are dangerous," he pointed out.

"As are everything else," she said, feeling anger build up inside her, "But you can't be an ostrich and bury your head in the marble."

"Sand."

"What?"

"Ostrich with its head in the sand," he said with a slight smile, "Listen, thank you for your concern nurse. If I have anymore concerns, I'll come talk to you. Good-day."


	3. Episode 3: To Beard the Beast

**Episode 3: To Beard the Beast**

**Teaser**

The same dream, every night. Without fail, it's there when he falls asleep. His looking for someone. He knows who she is but can't for the life of him remember her name. The corridors he runs down all look the same. White. Unadorned. No pictures, no tiling, nothing to help his find his way back. The further and further he goes, the more lost he becomes.

He can hear mechanical noises. Like great assembly arms rising and falling. He turned down a corner and everything changes to dark green. He feels a chill running down his back, but he struggles onwards. He has to find her. That's all that matters.

Voices whisper in his mind. _You_

He tries to ignore them as he runs down catwalks and spans of bridge over vast gaps, dark shapes all around him. _Will_

A vast archway rises before him, and he feels a beckoning. Yes, that was where he needed to go! Just a little further. _Be_

He enters a massive chamber, millions of red lights appearing in the dark and focusing on him. But there, up in the air, she hangs. He staggers to her and looks up. The blond hair with the golden streak. Breasts neither small but not voluptuous. A body just short of six feet. He reaches out to grab her and her eyes open. _Assimilated_

"Join us," she commands, "Join our Collective mind. Find the perfection you have always strove for." _You Will_

No! This can't be, he turns to run, but now he's been surrounded by hundreds of dark figures, reaching up their hands towards him. No! She couldn't. She was one of them? Impossible! _Be Assimilated._

"Resistance is futile," she said, as assimilation tubes shot from all over the place, "You will be assimilated."

Adam started awake, and rolling out of bed staggered towards the bathroom. He dropped on his knees over the toilet and vomited the entire contents of his stomach. He pulled himself up by the lip of the sink and turning on the water gargled out the vomit from his mouth.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Jemma asked, holding a cup of warm herbal tea to Tryke who took it.

"Same one," he muttered, taking the cup, "Sarah is always the Borg Queen. But, I know it can't be. She was taken by the Romulans. Am I going crazy, Jemma?"

"No more than the rest of us," she assured him with a sympathetic smile, "You know, Ensign Melvar in the Science labs had also been dreams about his little sister as the Borg Queen as well. Every single night, exactly as you have described."

"Do you know what these could be?" Tryke asked, "Perhaps shared nightmares or something?"

Jemma shook her head. "No," she said, "Although it surprises me the two getting these nightmares are the two liberated drone onboard the ship. Yes, crewmembers have been having nightmares about the Borg, but not like this. My guess is that the Borg are wanting to recall all their drones back."

"Makes sense," he said, "When I was...part of the Collective, I remember the Borg being sent out to reclaim liberated drones. Not so much for any genuine concern or anything. But because they might have new knowledge that would be useful to the Collective. But why chose Sarah, or Ensign Melvar's sister?"

"I'd say that they want the offer to be as enticing as possible," she said, "And who would you do anything for if not Doctor King?"

"True," he sighed, "I just wish we could end this war. The Borg's whisperings are becoming almost overpowering. At least when Merlek was alive he could have helped me. But now...I'm on my own."

"You are never alone," Jemma said.

"Oh yeah?"

**Act 1**

_Captain's Log - Stardate 64118.7714: We are receiving our new crew and senior staff finally and I look forward to meeting my new senior officers and getting to see how they perform. However, another matter of some urgency overshadows my good feelings. _

"Welcome onboard the _Invincible_," Stubbs said, standing in his ready room and grabbing the full-hair headed Doctor James McCoy's hand.

"Thank you sir," McCoy said, "Man, she's a beautiful ship you've got here. Haven't seen anything so pretty since I was on the _Tiberius_."

"_Prometheus_-Class, right?" he asked with a mischievous smile, "Be we can outrun even her I expect?"

"I'm a doctor, Captain," he said with a shrug, "Not a referee."

Stubbs smiled and was about to reach out his hand to the other officer but decided not to continue forward. He didn't know much about Gorn customs, and as he looked at the fiercely intimidating R'Kar, he almost hoped a Borg would take them on, just so he could see him in action.

"Forgive me, Lt. Commander," he said, "I am not sure how the Gorn greet each other.

"There isssn't much to it, sssir," the Gorn said, Stubbs wondering if a forked tongue was going to slide out between his teeth, "Lower rank warriorsss do not get greeted by their Captain asss humansss and Vulcansss do. We sssalute like thisss."

He clenched both fists and crossed them in front of his chest, nearly touching his shoulders. He bowed his torso ever so slightly. Just enough that his eyes were below his commanders. And then he raised himself up.

The door chimed and Stubbs said, "Enter."

The door slid open and Trust entered the room. "Sir," he said, "Starfleet Command wants to borrow Adam to help decrypt some stuff on the captured cube."

"Sure thing, Commander," he said, "Gentlemen, this is my First Officer, Commander Nathan Trust. Commander, this is Doctor McCoy."

"Are you related to Leonard McCoy?" he asked, looking at the doctor.

"Sure am, Commander sir," he said, and slapping the Gorn on the shoulder said, "And may I introduce Starfleet's soul Gorn represenative. R'kar of Clan Viz'lak, Lieutenant Commander, Slayer of the Thirteen Virgins, etc. etc."

"I'm sure you don't allow everyone to slap you on the back," Trust said.

"It would be unwissse," R'Kar said, bowing to him, "It isss an honor to meet Firssst Officer Trussst."

"I will not keep you," Joshua clapped his hands together, "I'm sure you'll both want settled in and take a quick tour of the ship. I'll have Councilor Grax show you around."

* * *

Jeffry tubes were places for getting into the guts of the ship. A place to get personal with the ship, to feel it's power running through its power grid. It was the veins of the ship. Where the life blood of _Invincible_ flowed through.

However, one could be sure this wasn't that they meant by getting personal. If anybody crawled through there right now, they'd see Chief Engineer Sam Mollen and science officer Jamie Gardner getting _very_ close and _very_ personal. It would have appeared to some to be a very bad episode of a soap, with clothes scattered all over the place and noises coming down the Jeffry tubes.

"This is a mistake," Jamie said, trying to breath between kisses.

"What's the matter?" Sam asked, "Getting a little guilty?"

"No," she shook her head, "But we should have gone back to my quarters. Not here. Anyone could stumble upon us."

"Of course not," he said, holding her face in his hands, "No one comes down here."

"Are you sure?" she asked.

"Positive."

Their lips engaged in another kiss when suddenly they heard a thump. They barely turned in time to see his second officer in engineering rounding the bend. "Where is it..." she muttered and barely noticed them in her sight, "Oh, hey Commander. I didn't know you were..." Her eyes grew wide and she backed up, apologizing as she went, the image of her naked commanding officer and a naked woman burned into her mind.

* * *

"I am trying to wrap my head around this," Stubbs said, his eyebrows furrowed in anger and his fingers laced before him, "You lose your husband not even two months ago. And yet, for the past two weeks, I have gotten reports of you two being caught, humping each other, in the Arboreta. In the mess hall at 0300 hours. On the holodeck, forgetting to engage a running program. In the back of the shuttle _Alpha Dots_. And now, in the Jeffry tubes in engineering. Did I miss any?"

"I think that covers it," Jamie said with hung head.

"Sir," Sam said embarrassed, "If I may-"

"You may not!" Stubbs snapped, "I really don't care how you both live your lives. I do not care about your personal lives. That's your business. But it's shameful that you, Jamie Gardner, who just lost your husband, was so quick to jump into bed with another man. And you, Sam, you are a senior officer! Did you honestly think you could get away with such indiscretion?"

"I-" he tried to say, but words failed.

"For heaven sakes man!" the Captain exclaimed, "Even Ensign Lendon isn't so indiscriminate with his _fiancé_. I don't even think he's touched her inappropriately, and they are engaged. I am going to have to relieve you of duty."

"For how long?" Sam asked, aghast.

"Until I am a good and ready," he replied.

"It was only one mistake sir," Sam protested.

"_One_?" he asked, his eyebrows lifted in disbelief, "I count _five_ times."

"But engineering needs me!" Mollen begged.

Stubbs became very calm and quiet. "Are you admitting you've also been lax in your training of your department? I will also be confining you to quarters. Now you both get out of my sight, before I decide to get nasty."

They both turned and hurried out of the Ready Room, leaving Joshua by himself. He fingered his wedding ring, glad he and his wife had been able to be discrete when they had made love before their marriage.

**Act 2**

He hated being on the Borg Cube. Everywhere he went, it felt as if a hostile presence, full of malevolence was watching him. It didn't help that he could still hear whispers in the Borg cube. Everyone could. Almost as if one of the prisoners was still inside. Trapped.

But, he shook off the feeling. He had a job to do. He stepped up to the central nexus and looked around at his fellow Starfleet officers. Some still had facial and cranial implants still attached. Others, like him, were able to hide their scars.

But none could hide the sickening inner cold they all were feeling.

"About time," a snotty-nosed Intelligence officer said, noticing his arrival, "About time we had a liberated drone that could get things moving around here."

"What do you expect?" he asked, "They are in the same ship they were forced to commit acts of barbarism and violate every right ever endowed to anyone. Now what do you want me for?"

He pointed to a script running down one of the walls. He stepped up and taking off his glove the metal meshing that surrounded his hand seemed to glow in the dark. He placed his hand on there and felt the script running through his mind.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Admiral Janeway asked, not at all interested in what was being said, "Another wave is on its way?"

"If they are punctual, which they are," Tryke said, feeling odd in his blue science officer uniform. He'd been chosen to replace his old friend Merlek. And considering his knowledge, he had to say he was the best qualified. But he enjoyed security much more. "They'll be here by the end of the week."

"And you say over a hundred cubs are on their way?" she asked for confirmation.

"Exactly a hundred."

"Why waste so many resources on destroying the Federation?" she asked, blinking carelessly, "We obviously can't fight them-"

"You haven't let us, have you?" Tryke said, before he could stop himself. He felt Captain Stubbs glance at him warningly from his seat.

"You have prevailed time and again against the Borg," she dismissed, "You'll be victorious against them."

"We can barely fight what's being thrown at us _now_!" Tryke said, "Imagine if you will, sir, trying to fight _twice_ as many as we are now."

"Then what do you suggest?" she asked.

"We send a task force to collapse the Betazed wormhole," he said, "A couple of quantum torpedoes fired into the wormhole and timed to explode would collapse it. We could do it within a few-"

"Unacceptable," Janeway cut him off, "If we take Betazed back we'll need it to retaliate. And besides, their transwarp hubs make the plan impossible."

"But they know there is the beachhead at Betazed," he argued, "Why go where it's not safe?"

"When I fought the Borg they did not think so tactically," Janeway shot back.

"I was Borg!" he snapped, pulling off his glove and holding up his hand, three assimilation tubules sliding out, "I know how they think Admiral! And you claim to have fought them."

"I _have_ fought them."

"Oh really? For a second I thought I was talking to a sterak'leah. You're just as slow as they are! Acting as if you haven't any care in the world. We are at war, Admiral! And you act as if it's a mal'gan movie!"

"Commander!" Stubbs snapped, "Stand down."

"Get off my screen," Janeway snapped and the screen shut off.

He slid the side two in and left the third one up and curled his fist, flipping off the screen. He slid it back in and turned to see everyone in the room staring at him with wide open eyes. He walked to his seat and sat down. R'Kar was making a grunting sound that was the Gorn equivalent of a laugh.

"She's a b-h," he muttered.

"Why do you have three tubules?" McCoy asked, clearly interested.

"None of your business," he grumbled, "Sorry Captain."

"Apology accepted," he said with a smile, "I've wanted to say something to the effect to her before. It was refreshing."

"What's that you said?" Trust asked, "The Gorn laughed. It must have been funny."

"One of those I assimilated as a Borg was a Gorn warrior," he said, "Some of the memories of whom the Borg assimilate is imprinted on the drone itself. And believe me, it was not a compliment."

"And it losssesss sssomething in the transsslation," R'Kar nodded, wiping the side of his muzzle where he was starting to drool.

"Too bad we didn't get approval to do anything about it," Acting Chief of Engineering Talia Brewers said from her seat.

"That's never stopped us before," Joshua said.

"You're still going to do something about it?" she asked, her eyes widening.

"Can photon torpedos do the job?" he asked, turning to R'Kar.

"Yesss," he said, "But takesss more."

"Would twelve do the trick?"

"What do you have in mind, Captain?" Trust asked.

"The _Gettysburg_."

"The combat runabout?" Tryke raised an eyebrow.

"I want Trust, R'Kar and Tryke to go ahead and take it there," he informed them, "Run simulations first, to make sure you'll be able to do it. You'll be cutting it close, but you can make it."

They all nodded. "Dismissed," he said, and they all rose and left the room, except for Trust, who turned to stare at his Captain.

"What?" he finally asked, once everyone was gone.

"I'd rather not go on the mission," he said.

"Come on," he said exasperatedly, "You work well with Adam."

"He's a loose cannon," he said, "And I don't buy this whole change of heart story of his."

"You will go with him and you will like it," he said.

"But-"

"That's an order."

**Act 3**

"Well," Jamie said, looking through the vidscreen at her lover, "Confined to quarters. Are you sorry we did any of it?"

"Absolutely not," Sam said, leaning against the wall, whiskers already appearing on his face. Well, if they weren't going to need him, why shave. "Why? Are you having second thoughts?"

"Absolutely not," she shook her head, "It's just frustrating being so far from you."

"I'll just have to think about your soft skin and let the buoy my spirits," he said, "We'll I've got to...I I don't know what. But we've been talking for a few hours."

"Yeah," she sighed, "I also need to get a shower."

Sam nodded and the connection ended.

* * *

-

"Let's go for five hundred kilometers," Tryke said, turning in the shuttle to R'Kar who was in the forward passenger seat, "Five volleys of five on my mark until complement is wasted."

"Underssstood," the Gorn said, lightly tapping on the console with his claw.

"Ready sir?" he asked.

"I'm ready," Trust announced.

"Now," he said, and they fired the torpedoes out. They watched the wormhole opened and swallow the torpedoes. The saw a flash of light and the wormhole was gone.

"K'plah!" Tryke slapped the edge of his console, "We need to be within a hundred kilometers of the wormhole and need to fire them five hundred into the wormhole. How long did it take Commander R'Kar."

"Thirty sssecondsss," he hissed.

"Is there any way we could speed up the flight of the torpedoes?" Trust asked.

"Perhapsss we can reverssse the polarity," R'Kar snorted, "Isssn't that alwaysss the anssswer?"

Trust looked over at the Gorn. For being from a fierce warrior race, he seemed to be of a jovial nature.

"Do you always make jokes?" he asked.

"Only when appropriate," the Gorn replied.

* * *

Doctor McCoy stepped up to the quarters, seeing the security guard. "At ease crewman," he said.

"I'm sorry," he said, "No one is allowed into Lt. Gardener's quarters."

"I'm a doctor," he rolled his eyes, "Not a jail breaker. I'm here to give her a checkup."

The security officer looked worried. McCoy sighed. That was the problem with Security. They had no imagination.

"Just close your eyes and I'll be in and out in a jiffy." he told him and the Security guard stepped aside.

The door slid open and he stepped inside. Into a frightful mess all over the floor. Clothes and dishes were everywhere. Half eaten food was on plates and bowls that hadn't been recycled in the replicator. No matter where he looked, it all was messy.

"Hello?" he called out, "You are here aren't you, Lt. Jamie Gardner?"

Just then he heard a hacking from the bathroom. He stepped past all the clothing and stepped up to the open door, to find the woman bending over the toilet.

"Good thing I showed up," he said, pulling out a small bottle of nausea reduction medicine into a hypospray and injected it into the slot, "Mind if I give you a shot?"

"Who are you?" she asked, her short red hair dangling down.

"Doctor James McCoy at your service," he said, kneeling by her, "At your service."

"Thanks," she asked, and he injected her with the medicine.

"How long have you been sick?" he asked.

"Morning are the worst," she said, "I've been getting very sick."

"Morning sickness?" he asked, "Are you pregnant?"

"No," she said, then hesitated, "I'm not sure."

"I think the Captain won't mind if I do an exam on you," he said, helping pick her up and carrying her in his arms headed towards the door.

"Sorry about the mess," she muttered, throwing her arms around him to keep herself up.

"Should have seen my place during med-school."

* * *

"Take care of each other," Stubbs said through the open channel as the armed run-about headed off.

"_Do our best sir_."

"Good to hear, Number One," he smiled, "See you in a few days."

**Act 4**

Jonathon was rubbing his forehead. He had no idea weddings took so much planning. And he wasn't even the one planning anything!

"Did you talk to your family?" he asked, as she was going off the guest-list.

Ashley stopped and looked up at him. "Yes," she said, and her tone did not bode well.

"And?" he pressed.

"They said they wouldn't attend the wedding of a child who choose a man over them," she said, tearing filling her eyes, "There were the one who were being rude! Why am I crying?"

"Meeting them was a painful experience," he agreed with a smile.

She chuckled but sobbed at the same time. He edged over to her and held her. He room-mate walked in from her shift and looking down rolled her eyes.

"What did you do this time, Lendon?" she demanded.

"I didn't do anything," he said, and as she stared suspiciously at him said, "Not this time. I swear."

"Uh-huh," she rolled her eyes. "Will you leave now? I got to get changed."

"But I-" he protested, but the cold glare from her sent him packing.

"Do you have to be so brusk with my _fiancé_?" Session asked, wiping away at the tears.

"That's my job," she reminded her.

* * *

R'Kar was meditating in the back of the cockpit, legs crossed and arms held up. His tail was oddly still. It always was moving. Trust was sleeping in the back, the door locked to keep out any noise that could disturb him. And Tryke was left to watch the boards.

But his mind wasn't there at the moment. No, somewhere in the back of his mind he kept having an image. A large dead planet. A massive building with walls and force fields surrounding it. And a word, _Remnant._

"What are you?" he asked as it appeared yet again, "A daydream or what?"

"Hmmm?" R'Kar grunted, "Ssspeaking to me?"

"No," he said, "Just speaking out loud. Unless you know of a place called _Remnant_."

"Never heard of it," the Gorn's eyes narrowed in thought, "Perhapsss it isss not a place."

"I have no idea," Tryke said, "Well, you better go awake Commander Trust. We will be there at Betazed in a few minutes."

R'Kar grunted as he turned around and stomped down the hall. And very soon a sound of heavy pounding and growling and howls could be heard. There was a scream and an stream of shouted vulgarity. Tryke turned to look, concerned being the simplest word to use.

"Put me down you d-n lizard!"

"Sssnar-glek mossshee, Du-hueman."

"I'll beat your a-, you Gorn freak!"

"Nevor, melow."

"I'll nevor your melow! Now put me down."

Tryke watched R'Kar step back into the cockpit, Trust slung over his shoulder like a child. And Tryke was thrashing about like a child. He plopped him down in the pilot's seat and Trust was still screaming.

"You bloody reptile! I'll skin you alive for that!"

"Mechaarsss, gerowsss," the Gorn chuckled, giving something that Tryke believed was the Gorn equivalent to a wink to him.

"Shut your mouth, Commander," he snapped, "I bet you put the beast on me, didn't you."

"Nope," Tryke said, turning to bury himself in his work, "Coming up on Betazed in thirty seconds. That's odd."

"What?" Trust snapped, in a very foul mood.

"I'm not picking up any Borg on my sensors," he said, "But I am getting a whisper from them."

"What isss it?"

"Laughter," Adam said, suddenly more scared then he ever had felt.

They dropped out of warp and the _Gettysburg_ was surrounded by...empty space.

"Look," Tryke said, and they turned to where he pointed. The planet Betazed they could see far off. But, even from this distance, the planet was all but dead. They could see where seas had once been, nothing but a grey ripple and the entire planet looked like a planet version of a Borg sphere.

"Sssnerav gildoor," R'Kar bowed his head and prayed in his language.

"Amen," Tryke said.

"We've got a mission," he said, "And let us honor these poor blokes by not praying but avenging them."

Just then in front of them a Borg cube suddenly rippled in from invisibility. The _Gettysburg_ weaved as they fired upon it and tried to grab onto it with tractor beams. Trust was one of the best pilots of the fleet and he now proved it, reacting before there was any action from the Borg, predicting every move. One by one Borg cubes and spheres appeared and they started to give them chase.

"Prepare the torpedoes, Mister R'Kar," Trust shouted, and they screamed towards the wormhole that was beginning to open.

"We've got Borg cubes coming from the other side!" Adam reported, "And we've got seventeen Borg cubes in pursuit."

"Can we collapse just this entrance?" Stubbs asked, the shuttle jerking as a plasma shot hit them.

"It won't have the same effect," Tryke replied, the inertial dampeners not quiet compensating for all his maniac maneuvers, "But it will be closed on our end alone."

"That'll have to do," R'Kar snapped, growling as the ship bucked from nearly being snagged by a tractor beam.

"I'll agree with the Gorn," Trust said, "Can we fire?"

"Wait for it," Adam said, staring at the console, watching the computer image of the wormhole come closer, "Wait for it. Wait for it. Now!"

Torpedoes were launched and they watched their fiery backs as they swept forward. Without waiting to see the results, the_ Gettysburg_ did a flip and loop and shot between the Borg cubes, veering and careening as they went. As soon as they were far enough, they shot into warp.

"Did it work?" Trust said, sweat falling from his face, "Please tell me it worked."

Tryke said nothing, sitting there, his back straight. A few moments passed as he waited for a reply but none was forth coming.

"Commander Tryke," Trust said, and turning watched as Adam Tryke turned towards them, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, "R'Kar!"

They both looked at him as Tryke looked back and forth. "Commander Tryke?"

_"You think you've won a victory?"_ a voice, singular, united but of many different voices issued forth.

"Who are you?" Trust asked, but he had a fair idea who it was.

_"I am the Borg," _the voice, who must have been none other than the Borg Queen herself said.

"Release my officer," he demanded.

_"You think I care about Commander Tryke? He is a rebel and will be cured of his disease."_

"And what dissseassse issss that which you ssspeak of?" R'Kar demanded.

_"Individuality of course. Trust me on this, I will destroy your Federation. You have only put off the inevitable. I shall remember you three. But you two especially: R'Kar of Gorn and Nathan Trust of Earth."_

Adam's eyes rolled back to the front of his head and he nearly fell forward, R'Kar reaching forward to grab him. He shook his head, looking as if he was going to be sick.

"Are you alright?" Stubbs asked.

"I don't feel very good," he said, struggling to stand back up, but unable to on his own, "Help me R'Kar."

"We ssshall not ssspeak of your illnessssss," he promised, and helped him to the back.

Nathan Trust didn't scare easily. Never had. Never intimidated. One of the reasons he was such a good Starfleet officer. Trust didn't stop shaking for at least half an hour.

**Act 5**

"How can this be possible?" she asked, "I've only been having sex with Sam for two weeks."

"You forget the fact that conception takes only a few seconds," McCoy said, standing by Jamie with a hand on the bed.

"But...I didn't think you could tell so early?" she said.

"We are a bit more advanced in our medicines then we were ten years ago," the Doctor reminded him. "So?"

"So what?" she asked, a little stunned by the revelation.

"Are you going to keep the child?" he asked.

"I have to talk to Sam about it," she said.

He nodded. "I do hope you do," he said, "So that way I can deliver the child."

She frowned. "Do you like doing that?" she asked.

He let out a breath and it seemed he aged a decade as he did so. "It reminds me life still goes on, even in as deadly a war as this," he said, and moved to put his tools away.

* * *

Trust pushed up on the bars, lifting hundreds of pounds. It helped clear his mind and calm his nerves. They'd made their report, and Stubbs was just as concerned as he was. This was a war of attrition. And sooner or later one would break. But, if Adam was right, it'd be the Federation first.

* * *

Lendon walked down the hall, and he passed Tryke on his way to his bed. He grabbed him by the arm and Tryke looked at him, dreadfully tired. At least he didn't look like he was going to die.

"Um," he said, "Commander, can I ask you a favor?"

"What?" he asked, his voice betraying nothing of his clear tiredness.

"I was wondering if you'd be my best man," Lendon asked.

"For what?" he frowned in confusion.

"My wedding," Jonathon said, trying not to let on the terror gripping if he said no.

"Only if you are mine," he said, and Lendon screamed a 'thank you' and squeezed Adam as hard as he could. Adam gently disentangled himself from his young friends enthusiastic hug. The young man ran off down the hall and he shook his head as he continued his walk back into his quarters. The doors open and he stepped up and without pulling off even his boots he fell face first onto the bed.

-

The same dream, every night. Without fail, it's there when he falls asleep. His looking for someone. He knows who she is but can't for the life of him remember her name. The corridors he runs down all look the same. White. Unadorned. No pictures, no tiling, nothing to help his find his way back. The further and further he goes, the more lost he becomes.

He can hear mechanical noises. Like great assembly arms rising and falling. He turned down a corner and everything changes to dark green. He feels a chill running down his back, but he struggles onwards. He has to find her. That's all that matters.

Voices whisper in his mind. _You_

He tries to ignore them as he runs down catwalks and spans of bridge over vast gaps, dark shapes all around him. _Will_

A vast archway rises before him, and he feels a beckoning. Yes, that was where he needed to go! Just a little further. _Be_

He enters a massive chamber, millions of red lights appearing in the dark and focusing on him. But there, up in the air, she hangs. He staggers to her and looks up. The blond hair with the golden streak. Breasts neither small but not voluptuous. A body just short of six feet. He reaches out to grab her and her eyes open. _Assimilated_

"Join us," she commands, "Join our Collective mind. Find the perfection you have always strove for." _You Will_

No! This can't be, he turns to run, but now he's been surrounded by hundreds of dark figures, reaching up their hands towards him. No! She couldn't. She was one of them? Impossible! _Be Assimilated._

"Resistance is futile," she said, as assimilation tubes shot from all over the place, "You will be assimilated."


	4. Episode 4: Shore-Leave

**Episode 4: Shore-leave**

**Teaser**

_Captain's Log - Stardate 64207.9531: The announcement has been made. Janeway is NOT human. None of her crew escaped the Delta Quadrant. One of our many probes into the databanks of the captured Cube revealed that. So, Janeway and the rest of her doppelganger crew if in flight, and those who remains now are fully committed to fighting the Borg under the leadership of Admiral Jean-Luc Picard._

The Borg Cubes came for another pass at Starbase 30. The starbases anti-space cannons fired, but the Borg cubes had adapted to the fire already, and were sending shots of plasma flying at the already weakened shields of the station.

This was yet another of the running battles _Invincible_ had found herself in over the past week since the Federation had found itself fighting both an internal war and an outer world. They had their phase cloaking on, and they were waiting for the right moment. And here it came. A Borg cube flew right through them, oblivious to the fact that there was anyone here. They passed by drones as they moved about the station, repairing damaged systems and keeping their weapons adapted the modulating Federations defenses.

Stubbs leaned in his chair, looking at his Second Officer. Tryke was sweating at his station, in his desperate attempt to ignore the whisperings of the Borg. Tryke held up his hand from the conn and clenched his hand.

"Now, Mr. R'Kar!" he ordered, and the shields raised, weapons powered up and the cloak dropped. It worked so that the shields forced massive sections of corridor to erupt, sending drones, machinery and warped metal flying every direction. They could see the core of the Cube, powerless at its feet to stop them.

"Quantum torpedoes!" Stubbs said, holding up his hand and chopping it forward, "Full spread. Now."

And the quantum torpedoes made their way and soon smashed into the warp core of the ship. The core began to erupt, massive explosions flying, and causing a cascade reaction throughout the cube.

"Phase shields now!" Stubbs said, and without any time to spare the shields were up, and they were momentarily blinded by the eruption all around them. When they could finally see again, they could see another Borg cube burning and the last one escaping into warp.

"Drop the shields," he said, "Engineering, what's our status?"

"For the most part good," Brewers reported, "We had some internal damage in the aft sections when we pulled that stunt. It's going to take some time to repair."

"Get it done as quickly as possible," he ordered, "Admiral Picard wants us to head towards Axanar for our next assignment. Mister Lendon, you know the drill."

"Aye sir," he said, wiping away the tiredness from his eyes.

"What's the status of the Strike force that we came with?" he asked, turning towards R'Kar.

"Ssseven of our ssshipsss dessstroyed," he reported, "Three ssshipsss badly damaged. Ssstarbassse 30 isss crippled. Probably beyond repair."

"That's half the strike force out of action," Trust commented.

"Nothing we can do about them," he muttered.

"But sir," he lowered his voice, "We've been in six engagements in the past fourteen days. The crew is going to break sooner or later. We need rest."

"I know that," Stubbs replied just as quietly, "I'll bring it up with the old man when he next contacts me. Until then, you have the bridge, Number One."

**Act 1**

Picard stood in the conference room of the _Invincible_, reading the reports he was being handed. No, he wasn't there in the flesh, but the holographic telepresence had been greatly improved in recent years. Stubbs had to keep reminding himself he wasn't flesh and blood when he'd stand up and move about, walking through the conference table and chairs.

"We've done okay," Picard conceded, "But not nearly good enough. For ten Borg cubes and sixteen spheres, we've lost forty of our finest ships. We'll need to keep running through new tactics. Keep upgrading the ships. Even death is a learning experience for the Borg."

He walked up to a star chart projected onto the viewscreen and highlighted and area. "New Paris has seen a bunch of Borg activities in the region," he said, "I want the Invincible and the strike force you are with and help the _Majestic_ and _Savage _as they hunt for the Borg in the area."

"Sir," he said, his hands behind his back, "You know I pride myself as having the best crew in the Fleet. However-"

"However what?" Picard asked, turning to him.

"Permission to speak freely sir," Stubbs said, straightening his shoulders.

"Granted," Picard said.

"We've been in six engagements in the past two weeks," he replied, "And we've fought the Borg at Betazed, and the Romulans before that and after. The only break we've had in nearly a year was a mandatory stand down because of the damage the _Invincible_ suffered during the Romulus mission. Sir, we need time to stand down."

"No," Picard shook his head, "We need to drive. And drive hard. We cannot allow the Borg time to gather their full strength. We need to keep them off-balance."

"Then use the _USS Sputnek_," Stubbs said, "Or the _Calling Card_, or the _Jeepers' Creepers._ Sir, I am asking to allow my people shore leave."

"No," Picard repeated, "I need every man at this time. It's too delicate a situation to allow to chance."

"My people will break sir," Stubbs said, "They need rest."

"No," Picard repeated again, "We must continue the drive. The Borg will not stop."

"Sir," Stubbs felt his ire rise, "Even the Borg allow their drones to rest. We _need_ rest. Or we will make mistakes and die."

Picard stared at him, and even in the holographic projection Stubbs could tell the inner debate going on. Finally, he slowly nodded his head.

"I'll give your people a week's leave," he said, "Picard out."

* * *

"Mr. Tito," the Captain said as he walked onto the bridge, "Set course for P'Jem. Engage."

"Why are we going there sir?" Trust asked, raising his eyebrows.

"We are going on shore leave, Mr. Trust," he said, "And I feel that P'Jem would be a perfect planet."

* * *

Jonathon dragged his feet to the bunk bed and pushed himself up. He'd worked a double shift and had been up for sixteen hours. He was so ready to go to sleep, and he was almost immediately asleep. Just then the comm-panel lit up and groaning he said, "Computer, whose calling?"

"_Ensign Ashley Session_," the computer reported.

If he answered the call, he'd stay up. But he wanted to sleep. What could she possible be calling about now? They were getting married in about a week anyways.

"Receive transmission," he said, taking a "what the heck" attitude.

The screen flashed over to his fiancés' face.

"Are you going to sleep?" she asked.

"Yes," he said, "Why?"

"Weren't we having a dinner date after you got done?" she demanded, arms folded across her chest.

"Bullocks," he muttered, "I forgot all about that. Can we reschedule? I am dead tired."

"If you love me you'll come have dinner," she said.

He threw his arm over his eyes. Why did she have to say that? He always crumbled and did what she wanted when she'd say that.

"Alright," he said, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Good," she said, "Oh, and if you don't leave, I've told Chess to drag you along."

He grunted. The screen turned off and he took a few deep breaths before slwoly sitting up and swinging his legs over. He dropped down, but instead of just landing on his feet, he fell onto the floor. The door opened and in stepped Chess who looked down at him and shook his head.

"Shut up Chess," he muttered.

He wiggled his antennae and stepped over the Pink Skin as he went to the replicator.

**Act 2**

P'Jem had a sacred Vulcan monastery that was still attended to by Vulcan priests. Even after it was destroyed during a retaliatory strike by the Andorians, it had been rebuilt. Sure, they enjoyed their privacy, but even without that, there was much more of P'Jem then just the monastery. The Island of Gegaro had a small settlement there. It was a tourist attraction, for it was the home of the Silicon Caves. These caves had the ability to imprint the last words spoken by a person in the cave on the closest part of the wall where they last stopped talking.

There was also the Spunkner Forest, where the village of Ki'a'He was. The forest was made of trees similar to Earth Oak. That was a forest teaming with beasts. A hunters paradise. Especially since the mostly Vulcan population didn't eat meat.

And one mustn't forget the Gilroy Archipelagoes. The island chain that acted as a barrier against southern storm fronts boasted some of the best surfing in the quadrant. So, while it was certainly no Risa, it still had charming appeal.

It was in the village of Sarek that most of the crew beamed down to. Including Ensigns Lendon and Session, and Commanders R'Kar and Trust along with Doctor McCoy. As the two engaged went to visit the caves, R'Kar and Trust went to hit the Feregni Finest Casino, while McCoy went off in search of good food.

"Heading down to the planet?" Tryke asked as he headed towards the transporter.

"No," Stubbs shook his head, "My family is arriving tomorrow. I prefer to spend it with them."

"Oh," Tryke said, his good mood darkening slightly, "Veronica will be here?"

Stubbs nodded his head slowly. "And she asked you be off the ship. She doesn't want to be in the same place as you."

Tryke bite the inside of his cheek. She still wouldn't forgive him. Figures.

"I'm sorry, Commander," he said.

"Why apologize?" he asked, stepping onto the transporter pad, "Lost the woman I love. What makes me think I deserve to see my sister? Energize."

And with that he transported off the ship and rematerialized in his cabin on Yagador Mountain in the Sarkeen Mountains. He took one look around at all the dust and grunted. A few hours would clean it up and he could set down to relaxing. As much as he could be himself.

Jemma Grax stepped off the transporter pad in the Hotel Mozza, on the beach front of Lake Telgro in middle of the southern continent. As she stepped off and headed towards the main desk, she felt at once the glances from all the guys in the hotel. Indeed, this hotel, while it did not state so, few women would come here and it was mainly a manly attraction. Not that anything was wrong there, but women preferred the ocean view more than the lake view.

"Well, well," the Andorian bell-hop at the desk smiled broadly, "If it isn't Miss Grax. Come here to visit us. Long time no see."

"She is a sight for sore eyes," the human desk clerk said, "Here for the day? Or are you going to stay a while?"

"I'll be here the week," she flashed a grin, "What room you going to give me boys?"

"H-9 is available," the desk clerk said, handing her the old style key to her room. The hotel was mostly based off Earth's late 20th Century designs for hotels. The food was from that time period, cooked by an actual chef and despite the non-humans in the place, and the teleporter, all door had handles and keys and even the electrical system was akin to that time period. No voice activation computers.

But, the call had been made in advance, and as she headed to the old time elevator and proceeded seven floors up, all she needed to do was wait.

* * *

The door chimed and Sam moved to the door. Adam Tryke came to visit once a week, but as they were in orbit over a planet, he had no idea what was going on, ever since he was put here under house arrest. Jemma Grax would also come visit. Even Doctor McCoy, whom he found he liked. He opened the door and standing there was Captain Stubbs.

"Hello, Captain," he said, exaggerating a sweeping bow, "Please come in."

"Sorry," Joshua said, holding up his hand, "My family's ship is arriving in a few minutes and I am going to meet them."

"Oh," Mollen nodded slowly, "So, what bring you here?"

"I won't make this awkward for either of us," Stubbs shook his head, "Quite frankly, the past month has been hard on the ship. We've been running battles with the Borg with little respite. And while Lt. Brewers is good, Talia is by no means you at fixing up this ship. We are currently taking R&R, but this ship needs looked at. Can I count on you and Lt. Gardner to keep your distance at least in public?"

He nodded slowly. "I think we can manage something," he said, "And I know we did wrong sir, but, frankly I'm getting stir crazy in here."

"Very good," Stubbs nodded, "then consider yourself back on active duty."

**Act 3**

The heavy Klingon rock drowned everything out in the club as R'Kar and McCoy stepped into the _Klingon Pon Farr. _They pushed their way towards the bar, the crowd parting as the Gorn stepped through. Within seconds they were sitting down at the bar and the Ferengi bar tender stepped over to them, putting down the cup he had been wiping.

"Well, well," he clapped his hands, "I've never had a Gorn and human walk into this bar before. Well, come to think about it, I've never had a Gorn at all. Ha ha! Wait tell Cousin Quark here's about this! So, what can I get you gentlemen?"

"I'll have a Cardassian Sunspot," McCoy ordered.

"I see," the bar tender bobbed his head up and down, "A very excellent choice. And what about you, my large green reptilian friend?"

"Romulan ale," he said.

"Very nice," he said, but next he knew, the Gorn was pressing his snot into the Ferengi's face.

"No watering down the drink," he snarled, letting his tongue flicker out to taste the fear from the Ferengi, "Or I sssshall have to get...persssonal. Underssstood?"

"Un-un-understood," he said, pressing a hand to his chest, "I sh-shall get to it. Sh-sh-shall I?"

R'Kar kept his face pressed for a few second before nodding slowly and leaning back. Most of the people hadn't noticed it, and as he sat down, McCoy chuckled.

"I might be a doctor and would never say such a thing," he smirked, "But you enjoyed that. Didn't you?"

R'Kar chuckled with a guttural laugh.

* * *

"I think we should get married down here on the planet," Session said, dragging her man around the caves, the sound of underground water seeming to swirl around the crystalline formations, "Wouldn't it be lovely? Down here in these caves? So romantic?"

"Yesterday you thought it'd be nice to get married in a forest," Lendon commented, "Today it's caves. What tomorrow? Underneath the lake?"

"What a brilliant idea!" she squealed in delight like a school girl and wrapping her arms around him and smothering him in a long kiss, "I knew there was a reason I liked you."

"If that's the only reason I can die a happy man," he said, although he really didn't want to get married anywhere but on the ship.

* * *

Jemma sat straight up from where she had been doing Yoga when a heavy knock fell on the door. A smile spread across her face at the sound. She knew exactly who that was. She stood up and nearly ran to the door to open it. There standing at her door was a dark skinned Vulcan male, sweat beginning to break forth across his face.

"About time you came," she teased, "I was wondering if you'd show up."

"My duties have been extensive," he said, his whole body beginning to shake. He held up to pressed fingers to her who also pressed to fingers together. He slid them up and down, desire burning in his eyes.

"Wife," his Vulcan face was being transformed into a rare smile, "My _Pon Farr_ is upon me. It is time to for us to mate."

"I'm all yours," she smiled, and felt as his hands moved to the back of her uniform and began to unzip the uniform and began to peel it off her.

* * *

"What a mess!" Sam rolled his eyes.

The entire chip assembly that had been used to control the climate controls of seven decks had been jury rigged to the point he wasn't sure what exactly had happened. And obviously Talia was planet-side, so he couldn't ask her. And there was only two others currently in engineering.

He set to work, slowly pulling chips out and keeping an eye on a PADD that was linked to the climate controls to see what exactly was going on when he'd pull something out. He slowly worked, not wanting to get ahead of himself. Sometimes, he'd have to slide stuff back into place as the entire environmental system went out on decks.

_Why couldn't they just hold off on making these modifications? Were we really hammered that hard?_

His comm beeped and without thinking about it he tapped the button.

"Mollen here," he replied.

"_Hey Sam_," Jamie's voice came online.

"Hey Jamie," he replied, "I'm currently in the middle of a project. Can we talk later?"

"_I was actually wondering if you'd like to have dinner tonight_," she asked, "_I have something to tell you._"

"Okay," he said, "See you around 1800 if that works."

"_Yes_," she said, "_It does. See you then_."

"See ya," he said, and the line shut off. And the Texan went to town on the chips and worked hard on them.

* * *

"Energize," Stubbs said, pressing his uniform tunic to his chest and smoothing it out.

There was a sprinkling of transporter effects and soon, standing in the transporter was the long brown haired woman that was his wife. And his three lovely children.

"Daddy!" Lola screamed, all but jumping off the transporter pad into his outstretched arms. His two years old twin boys hurried off the transporter pad and squeezed him hard around the legs.

"If it isn't my lovely Lo," he said, hugging her in a tight bear hug and then bending down to give his boys a quick squeeze, "Davey and Zacky. My brave little men."

The two boys didn't yet know words but squealed in delight at their father's attention. He disengaged from his family embrace and standing up saw his wife smirking at him as she walked up to him, her arms folded.

"What?" he asked.

"About time you were a part of our children's life," she mockingly reprimanded.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"All the way here the children were bouncing off the walls of the transport," she waved a hand, "Asking if we were with Daddy yet. And they'd be so sad once I would say no."

"I'll do better next time," he smiled, and he gave his wife a big embrace and kissed her on the lips. "Chief, transport their baggage to my quarters."

"Already inputted sir," he nodded, and the Risan used the transporter to beam all the suitcases to his quarters.

"Very good," he nodded, "Now come, oh family of mine. So children, how would you like to see my starship?"

The children squealed in delight at the prospect of being able to go throughout the ship their Daddy was Captain of. They might not understand the whole ranking system, but obviously Daddy was an important man that people obeyed. So, holding the hands of his children and his wife holding his arm, he led them out of the transporter room.

**Act 4**

Adam Tryke stood on the porch overlooking the lake. The way they had set up the lodges is that no one could see the other, but they had done it without the need of technology. No, it was all natural, and surrounded by trees of the forest on one side and the lake on the other, it was as close as he'd ever get to being alone.

He could hear them. The Borg. The Hive Mind. It was summoning forth it's armies, ready to assault the Federation with a wave three times the size of what they had hit it before. He felt in a way he was eavesdropping, but over two hundred and seventy ships were ready to swing into the Alpha Quadrant and hit the Federation. They were just waiting some command.

What were they waiting for? He could not tell. But the constant battles were draining. To be sure, the Borg had dropped using their new tactic of overwhelming his Borg nano-probes. So he didn't have to keep being put under. But...it was trying to fight so many Borg and feel the deaths of every drone.

He turned away from the scene and entered the main room, turning on the antique television set and inserted the equally antique but perfectly preserved Blu-Ray of the _Babylon 5_ series. He had seen the old dvd version and was amazed at how the people had such imaginations, but the new CGI that was used for it made it all the much more epic. He sat down and watched as the mysterious Vorlon Kosh revealed to Captain Sheridan the awakening of the Shadows by the archeology team his wife had participated in.

* * *

Trust jogged through the mountain trail, passing by an asthmatic Bolian and his Vulcan companion who took time to let him catch his breath. He waved to them as he continued his jog up the trail. It was good to not be relied upon to help his Captain keep face and to act as mediatory between crew and Captain.

No, here it was just him and him alone he had to take care off.

He reached the top of the path and spotted the P'Jem Sanctuary. He slowed his pace, taking a slow breath and spotted a Vulcan Priest waiting there. He stepped forward slowly, letting his heart calm down and stood before him and bowed slightly.

"Come and seek enlightment through logic," the Priest said, holding his hand towards the door.

He nodded his head and entered the Sanctuary as offered by the Priest.

* * *

The blanket covered Jemma Grax's naked body and she caressed her sleeping husband's pointed ear. It was little known among those not married to or born Vulcan, but the ears were pleasure centers. Much like a Ferengi's ears. She loved her husband, and could feel a stirrings of emotions in him beyond his wall of logic and they spoke of a fierce and intense love for the curvy, beautiful Betazoid female.

"Your emotions erode your logic, dear wife," the Vulcan said, reaching his hand around to touch her hand gently.

"There is no logic where you are concerned," she said, kissing him on the shoulder.

"Perhaps your time onboard that ship has made you weak of will," he muttered, turning over to look at her, bleary eyed from sleeping in.

"And perhaps your top secret missions has made your patience for erotic sex eroded," she teased him.

He shrugged with a small smirk of allowance, "That could be a logical assumption."

"I love you, Seran, son of Tuvok," she said, nibbling on his ear.

"Jemma, Daughter of Pelan, of the House of Gild, Bearer of the Seven Rings of Betazed," he said, "You must contain your emotions."

"Oh," she purred, "I'll contain your emotion."

He rolled his eyes. "And I thought our marriage was logical at the time," he commented, "It seems my logic slipped then."

"And how is your logic now?" she asked.

He thought about it a second before answering. "Still impaired," he admitted.

* * *

"So," Sam asked as he stepped inside the quarters of his love, "How are you Jamie?"

"I am well," she said, hugging him tightly. They both held each other, feeling the desire and warmth between them. They finally pulled back, and she nodded towards the table.

"I hope you like chicken," she said, "Because I've made chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and all that good stuff."

"Is it naturally cooked or is it replicated?" he asked.

She smiled ruefully, "I never got the knack of cooking like James did. I just am flat handed when it comes to that."

"At least the rest of you isn't flat," he smiled wickedly as he took his seat.

Jamie sat across from him and they progressed very quickly through their conversation. The usual pleasentries of friends and lovers that haven't been able to see each other for a long time. But, eventually it wound up with them nearing the end of their meal.

"So, I really need to tell you something Sam," she said slowly and hesitantly, "But I am not sure how you are going to react to it."

"Don't worry," Sam smiled, bending over his plate and shoveling up the last bit of food, "I'm a big boy."

"Okay," she took a deep breath, "Sam, I'm pregnant."

Sam's heart seemed to stop, his fork near his mouth. Pregnant? No, she mustn't have said that. She wasn't pregnant. No, it must have been a long day, because now he was hearing things.

"Forgive me," he said, "You must have mumbled. What did you say?"

"I'm pregnant," she repeated, "And you are the father."

Sam stood up, setting his fork down, turned on his heel, and left the room without so much a second thought.

* * *

The kids had finally been tucked away for the evening and they had all taken residence in his living room. Stubbs was pretty sure he didn't want to know what it was going to be like in the morning. R&R was soon going to be wrapping up, in only a couple days, but for all his desire to be with his family, he was beginning to wish they'd just go.

No, not his children. Only his wife. Veronica had done nothing but complain since she had gotten onboard. She complained about the holodeck. She complained about the temperature the quarters were in, even if they were changed. The water in the shower was either too cold or too hot. The replicator either overdid food or didn't do it well enough. The lights were either too bright or they were too dim.

Oh, and he hadn't even gotten to what he would do wrong. He was either too early or too late. Never on time. He was either too clean or not clean enough. He either was too sexually charged or not enough. He was either paying too much attention to the children or he wasn't paying them enough.

As he sat in the bed, pillow pushed up against the wall, he looed at his wife, who was stressing out over something.

"What now?" he asked.

"Not like you help," she snapped, "You either don't help at all or you are too late."

"Whatever," he rolled his eyes, "Not as if I could do anything right."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Why did you come here?" he asked, staring at her.

"Because I wanted to," she said, chin up in the air.

"No, you don't," he retorted, "You've been nothing but mitching and boning about everything since you got here. I'd believe it must be that time of month, but you mellow out badly during your periods. So, if you didn't want to be here, why did you come?"

"You don't know anything!" she yelled and stormed into the bathroom where she locked herself in.

He face-palmed himself. Oh, this was going to be a _long_ couple of days.

**Act 5**

The week was wrapping up, and Stubbs stood in the transporter room as his family prepared to leave and head back towards Earth. He hugged his children goodbye and gave his wife a kiss. She seemed very anxious to leave. It probably had nothing to do with the fact that Commander Tryke was going to be on board soon.

"I wish this had been on Earth," he said, as she stepped onto the transporter pad, "Perhaps then you would have been happy."

"Yeah," she said, "So do I. Love you Husband"

"Bye love," he said, and with that his wife and family was transported onto the transport ship.

As soon as she was gone, he slumped slightely. He turned to the transporter chief, and holding his fingers up to his temple pretended to shoot himself in the head. The Chief's face broke into a slight smile and Stubbs turned on his feet and headed out of the transporter room.

* * *

"Any idea where they'll send you off next?" Jemma said, zipping her uniform up and finishing help her husband finish packing his bags.  
Seran glanced up to her and arched an eyebrow. "She who is my wife," he said with a disapproving tone, "You know that the Section will not allow me to tell you that."

She smiled sweetly. "Oh, I won't tell anyone," she teased.

He blinked at her with his emotionless glance. "I will confess wife, it is harder for me to tell when you are being serious or just joking when I am no longer in pon farr," he commented.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you really not know me that well?" she asked.

"The female mind is a complex and illogical ground with which to transverse and make logical sense of," he stated, "Even female Vulcans are hard to logical deduct."

"But I'm hotter than they are," she winked.

"You are aesthetically more pleasing to be sure," he nodded, zipping up the duffel bag, "And compared to Vulcan females, you have got much larger..."

"Watch it," she warned mockingly, and he desisted from his less then logical clean comments with a smirk.

* * *

"What the frak?" McCoy said, sitting up, his head spinning, "Where the h-l are we?"

"Uh..." R'Kar muttered, slowly pushing himself off the floor, "I've got a headache."

McCoy looked around, and spotted...nothing. No clothes, no communicators. Nothing. They had nothing, and they were stuck in a basement?

"Weren't there some chicks with us?" McCoy asked, squinting as he glanced around.

"I think we've been rolled," R'Kar growled, his naked body hideous without a uniform to cover himself up.

"Yes," McCoy snapped angrily, pushing himself up, "We have been rolled. At least it's nighttime."

R'Kar glanced up towards a window and grunted. "It'ssss not," he grunted, "It'ssss morning."

"Good heavens man!" McCoy growled, "Why didn't things like this happen to my dad? You know what that means?"

Soon they were walking through the bar, fully naked. One Gorn and a human male. The packed bar parted slowly as they walked through. They could hear snickers as they walked by and McCoy could see R'Kar's fists curling. He patted him on the shoulder.

"I won't mention this if you won't," he said.

* * *

Tryke stepped outside the house, and locked the door. He had no idea how long it'd be before he got back, but he was looking forward to it. He still had the last disc of _Babylon 5_ to re-watch. He stood there, looking around, at the landscape one last time. The trees and the lake behind his house. When the war would be over, he guessed he'd move back.

But...without Sarah King, what life could there possibly be? It'd be empty either way without her.

He tapped the com-badge on uniform, "Tryke of _Invincible_. One to beam up."

* * *

"It's nice to see everyone back on the bridge," Joshua said, looking around at the bridge crew. Man, how he had been so wrong. He didn't at all feel like without them was better. He actually enjoyed everyone being at their stations.

"Good to see you too sir," Commander Trust smiled, "Where are we off to now?"

"Vega Prime was hit by the Borg and while there wasn't total destruction, Picard believes we should move into the area immediately," Stubbs said, "Mister Lendon, plot a course to Vega Prime."

"Coordinates are input sir," Lendon said from his seat, Tryke nodding at the efficiency with which he operated.

"Warp 8," Stubbs ordered, "Engage."


	5. Episode 5: Rings of Mercury

**Episode 5: Rings of Mercury**

**Teaser**

Empress Sela marched into the War Council and noticed how few Admirals there were in the room. Out of an original thirty or so, only seven were now present. A couple couldn't attend because of the war against the Klingons and Federation, but surely losses hadn't been _that_ high. She did spot Imperator Stulon, so she was at least grateful for that.

"Alright," she folded her arms, "I am here. Now what is it you wanted to tell me?"

There was a sense of hesitation among these men and women of the Empire. How she hated that! Just be out with it was her motto.

"Well?" she demanded, and then turning to the Imperator glared, "Out with it Imperator. What is so dire you needed to summon me from my flagship?"

Stulon drew his shoulders back and he towered over her by almost an entire foot. She was not intimidated though. She had killed the Praetor without so much as a stutter. She shed no tears over the war.

"We can no longer win this war," he said, "The last two months, ever since the explosion of the home systems sun destroyed the Romulan solar system we have lost forty percent of our forces in a dozen engagements. Now there is roughly thirty-two percent of our forces still left. We have lost a fifth of our territory. We need to end this war."

Sela stared at him. If she could have melted him with a glance, she would have. But, she could not and settled by placing a hand on his disruptor at the side.

"We can win this war," she replied, "The Klingons are in no position to halt us We have even approved a new campaign. It has a seventy-six percent chance of taking back everything we've lost."

"Actually," an older Romulan admiral said slowly, his ears dropping a little bit with age, "It'd only succeed at fifty-percent casualties. Our remaining forces would be in no position to defeat any invasion with any real push behind it."

Sela's eyebrows rose. She looked at every person there, holding their eyes. None of them could hold her gaze. They all had the stink of defeat about them.

"Am I in the group of proud Romulans?" she demanded, "Or am I in the company of Ferengi weasels? We have the chance to win this war! The Federation is busy with the Borg and the Dominion. The Klingons have no true military. Only old wives and men. We can win this war! Do not give up hope. We shall prevail!"

"We've already decided," Stulon said, "Empress Sela, the military is not behind you anymore. The war is over."

A fury rose within her and pulling out her disruptor shot down the two guards in the room before turning her aim at Admiral Donatra. Stulon was upon her though, and knocked the disruptor out of her hand. Two guards swiftly came up behind Sela and grabbed her by the arms.

Stulon straightened himself. "I am sorry, Majesty," he said, "But I shall have to have you held in cells until the treaty is signed. Take her away."

"You are all traitors!" she shouted as she was dragged out of the room, "I will fight this war by myself if I must! We are meant to rule the galaxy! Not surrender to spineless prey! I swear you shall all pay for this!"

The doors slammed shut behind her and he stared at the closed doors. He was now the ruler of the Romulan Star Empire. He turned to the gathered Admirals. This was a moment he had hoped to never have happen to him. But, it needed to happen. for the future of the Empire.

"Send the message to the Federation," he said slowly, the words tasting like vinegar in his mouth, "We wish to talk peace."

**Act 1**

"Breath."

"I am breathing."

"Don't stare at her-"

"I'm not staring."

"Breath."

"I am!"

"Don't panic."

"I'm not panicking!"

"You are now."

"No, I'm not."

Tryke patted Ensign Lendon on the shoulder. They had just fought a running battle with three Borg spheres, and despite a total power failure after the Borg were able to hack into the power network for a few second, Lendon had been cool as a cucumber. He'd even nearly rammed the ship into a Borg vessel, before it veered away, making everyone on the bridge edgy. But, it had worked.

But, Jonathon Lendon was facing the real battle. It had been pushed back by two weeks but it had finally arrived with a dreadful vengeance. His wedding.

He stood there, in dress uniform. But, he had a slight pale tint to his cheeks and he was sweating a ton. Adam Tryke was pretty sure Ashley would not care much for it if he was about to faint. Ensign Chess was at a piano, playing the tradition human wedding tune.

Captain Stubbs stepped out from a small office behind the main chapel and stepped up to the altar. He wore his dress uniform and he looked very uncomfortable in it. Indeed, he hated his dress uniform. Not the uniform itself. It just never seemed to fit as well as he'd like.

Commander Trust stepped up to Stubbs and whispered something in his ear. Stubbs frowned but whispered something back and Trust turned and headed out of the chapel. But, at that moment, in stepped Doctor McCoy, and attached at his arm was the bride. Wearing a dress of soft blue with embroidered white flowers, she began to walk down the hallway, the tune changing to "Here Comes the Bride."

A sudden moment of panic hit Jonathon full force and he moved back to flee. But Tryke was there and clamping a firm hand down held him in place. At least until the boys confidence was back and straightened his shoulders.

The entire gathering had stood as she entered and as she walked down the aisle towards the altar. As they stepped up, McCoy let her hand slid out and handing it over to Jonathon's stepped aside. They both turned to face the altar and Stubbs motioned for them to be seated.

"Since the first time man set sail on wooden barges with sails, every captain has been given one of the greatest honors one could one could bestow," he said, "The joining of two lovers in the holy bonds of matrimony…

* * *

"He'll be here soon, Admiral," Trust said to the viewscreen.

"What is he doing?" the Admiral barked angrily, "This is of utmost importance."

"As I told you before sir," Trust said with some frustration, "he is currently performing the marriage ceremony of two of the crew."

"That is nothing compared to this matter I need to discuss with him!" the Admiral barked.

Trust held his hand to his side, and contented himself with drumming on his leg. There was no way to convince this Admiral that things were good. And that Captain Stubbs would be back. So, he wasn't even going to try.

* * *

Stubbs stepped into the Conference Room and saw his XO about to jump out a window. He turned to him and he seemed a smile visibly.

"I'm glad you are here sir," Nathan breathed a sigh of relief, "Admiral Constance is fuming at bits, sir."

"Don't worry, Mr. Trust," he placed his hand on his officers shoulder supportively, "Me and the Admiral go way back. So, Admiral what can I do for you? Need to get laid again?"

"If only it was that simple, Josh," she glared fireballs from her eyes, "I would think that hearing about my call would have prompted you to answer it at once."

Joshua smiled broadly. "Trudy," he said with a flair that Nathan had rarely seen, and not able to pull away because his shoulder was firmly in his Captain's grasp, "My people have been in battle almost nonstop for weeks now from the Borg. And we've lost fifteen personnel during these battles. The wedding of two of my officers have been a good distraction and a reminder things can improve. Would you really have me deny my people that?"

"Of course not," she retorted, "But I have need for you this instant."

"And so what can I do for the Admiral?" he asked.

"You are to proceed immediately to Starbase 13 where you will pickup a Starfleet VIP," she said, "You will receive further instructions from him there."

Trust glanced over at Stubbs. The Captain, while keeping a veneer that spoke of calm and cool, didn't totally hide from his eyes the surprise. But, if the Captain thought it was odd, he didn't say anything.

"May I ask who it is we shall be picking up?" he asked, "I'd hate to pick up the wrong person."

"You'll know him when you see him," the Admiral spoke belittling towards him, "That's all you need to know. Constance out."

The screen turned off and left the two men alone in the room. It was odd. Why did they need to go to Starbase 13? That was back near Earth. And why were they leaving the area when the Borg were being so active? Trust didn't care so much for it.

"Helm," Stubbs touched his commbadge, "Set a course for Starbase 13. Maximum Warp."

**Act 2**

Starbase 13 was one of the oldest Starbases built by the Federation. At the time, the moon Gerenoid, the closest celestial body to the Sol System, was among the furthest reaches of the fledgling newborn Federation. It had seen service during the Romulan War of the 22nd Century. And while it wasn't the prettiest of starbases, it certainly had an appeal.

"Who do you think is coming onboard?" Commander Trust asked Stubbs.

"No idea," the Captain shrugged, "For all we know, it could be a simple package and not a human being. Will you go attend to it, Number One?"

He nodded his head and standing up, motioned to R'Kar, "R'Kar, your with me."

"Yesss sssir," R'Kar replied, turning and following him, nearly tripping with his long tail the replacement security officer as he stepped up to take over the station.

* * *

"Are you ready?" Trust asked as he stepped inside Transporter Room 4.

"Yes sir," the Andorian chief nodded, "Pattern lock is engaged."

"Energize," the Commander said, scratching the side of his nose. The Gorn stood to his side, taking a deep breath, his nostrils flaring. "You alright?"

"I sssmell sssteak," the Gorn growled, his eyes narrowing, making him look even more like a Raptor.

There was a twinkling of blue sparkles and lights on the transporter pad, and a human, in his mid 40's, appeared on the pad. He blinked around, and settled upon Trust. R'Kar growled in respect.

"Ambasssssador Henry Narvok," he nodded, "A pleasssure to meet you."

Henry Narvok was among the foremost diplomats of the United Federation of Planets. He had started off in J.A.G. where he had only minor success. But when he had transferred over to the political arena nearly ten years before, he had been key in working out the treaty with the Dominion and post-Shinzon Romulus.

Trust looked reproachingly towards the Security officer, "You'll need to pardon R'Kar," he said, "I am First Officer Nathan Trust. And this is Security Officer R'Kar."

"Forgive my bluntness," the Ambassador said, "But I am in need of talking to your Captain immediately."

Trust glanced over at the massive dinosaur at his side and nodded. "If you will follow me, sir."

* * *

"The matter is quiet simple," Stubbs said, leaning forward in his chair, "Brazilian martial arts far exceeds the Vulcan Defensive Postures."

"I have to disagree sir," Tryke replied, "While Brazilian Ju-jitsu is a formidable art, VDP is by far a more flexible martial art form."

"But not anybody can use it," Stubbs pointed out, "And if there was ever a kung fu battle, more people know Brazilian than Vulcan. Brazilian Ju-jitsu is usable by all."

"Exactly sir. Even a handi-capped person could use it. However, VPD is nowhere as simple. It's been proven to be a more useful-Oh, excuse me sir," he said, "My analysis of that anomaly has just finished."

The doors to the turbolift slid open with a hiss and out stepped the group onto the bridge. "Captain Joshua Stubbs," Commander Trust said, "This is Ambassador Henry Narvok."

Tryke stiffened and slowly turned. Narvok also had spotted him and there was suddenly an amount of friction. There hadn't been that much friction since Tryke had first gotten on board.

"Commander," Narvok glared.

"Ambassador," Tryke nodded slowly.

"Captain," Narvok turned to the Captain, "Is there somewhere more private we can speak?"

Stubbs nodded. "Of course," he said, holding out his hand, "My ready room."

As soon as they were off the bridge, Tryke continued to stare at the door he had entered. He felt someone walk up by him. It was Commander Trust and he was folding his arms.

"A friend of yours?" he asked.

* * *

"Forgive me, Ambassador if I am not in the mood for long flowery explanations," Stubbs said, sitting down behind his desk, "But with both the Borg assimilating and Dominion conquering our territory and the war with the Romulans, why does Starfleet feel we, the best ship in the fleet should simply leave?"

"I'm actually here because of the Romulans," Narvok replied, taking the seat opposite of Stubbs, "Tell me Captain, how'd you like to cut your troubles by a third?"

Stubbs frowned. "Perhaps you should give me the long flowery explanation," he said, "How are you going to pull off this miracle?"

Narvok smiled. "I thought that'd get your attention," he replied, handing him a datapad, "About 500 San Francisco Time yesterday, we received a communiqué for a Romulan man named Stulon. He stated that the Romulan people are willing to end the war, if we will be willing to."

Stubbs lifted a small cup and took a drink of herbal tea. Helped him think clearly at times. "I know the name Stulon," he said, "When we got nailed by the Romulan forces Commander Donatra told us he was the Imperator of their military. Their leader."

"Exactly," Narvok nodded.

"But why did he send the communiqué?" Stubbs asked, "And why not Sela."

"The military decided the war was lost," Narvok said, "Sela thought otherwise."

Stubbs leaned back, thinking as he spoke, "Kinda hard to fight a war if the military doesn't want to. So, why are we going and not a diplomatic ship?"

"Because frankly we don't know if this is genuine or not. And if we end up having to shoot our way out," the Ambassador said, "You'll have the best chance of doing so."

Stubbs couldn't disagree with that. There was so much to happen and soon. If the war could end now, they could bring back desperately needed ships defending the border to help fight the Borg. There was still about sixty cubes out there, and they needed to get as many destroyed as possible before the next wave arrived. This war ending would be the God-sent blessing they needed.

"Alright then," Stubbs said, and standing up led the Ambassador out onto the bridge, "We'll start heading out. Lt. Commander R'Kar will lead you to your quarters."

"Oh," Narvok said, stopping in front of Commander Tryke, "I also have a request."

"And that is?" Stubbs asked, frowning and turning to look back at him.

"These are going to be delicate proceedings," he said, "And I don't want Commander Adam Tryke on the bridge."

"I'm sorry," Stubbs shook his head, "He's a valuable member of my-"

"My diplomatic rank gives me authority over you, Captain," Novak held up his hand, "And I am giving you orders to have the Commander confined to his quarters until this is over."

Stubbs and Norvak stared at each other. Stubbs didn't know what was going on between these two, but, considering how many enemies Tryke had, it wasn't as if there was a shortage of reasons. But, he wasn't just going to let Tryke be removed. He was about to protest when Tryke stood up.

"Permission to leave the bridge, sir," Tryke asked, "There's a foul stench on the bridge leaving me unable to perform my duties."

Stubbs glanced at Tryke and saw intense dislike, even hatred in his eyes. He hadn't seen that in months from the man. This man must really rub him wrong.

"Permission granted," he said, and Tryke nodded headed up the small rise to the turbolift and the doors closed behind him.

* * *

Narvok stepped into the _Invincible_'s relaxation hall and heading towards a table, pulled out a chair and sat down, PADD in hand. In it was everything he'd need to know about the Romulan Imperator and the current state of the Star Empire. It would be best to know what to expect and plan accordingly. And unlike so many of his colleagues, he found being in a room full of people making noise to stimulate his preparations.

_"Stulon is the third child and only son of Vel'var and Kille," _the PADD told him, the official records that had both legally and illegally been obtained, by both the diplomatic channels and the spy network the Federation had, _"He graduated from the Romulan Military Academy on Stardate 43685.2. His first action was as a Commander of one of the Romulan warbirds assigned to the fleet commanded by Sela during the Klingon Civil War. During the Dominion War, he was in twelve different engagements, all successful. There is unconfirmed rumors that he had been chosen by Shinzon to lead the military, thus implicating a relation with both the tyrant and soldier. After Shinzon was killed at the Battle of the Bassen Rift, he was promoted to Imperator, after a classified action."_

Nervok frowned. The warrior indeed. So, whatever was compelling him to peace had to be something strong indeed. Soldiers by nature are the hardest pressed to consider peace. Not only consider, but accept. What was the quote he once heard of the speech Captain Kirk give after the Khitomer Accords? "The peace will be hard to accept for warriors like me. Not because peace is not better than war. But, war is the purpose of a soldiers life." So would make this man consider peace? Was it not more honorable to go down fighting?

Or was this a stratagem? An attempt to take hostage a Federation diplomat. That wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibilities. That's why the Federation wanted the best ship in the fleet to handle this assignment.

A dark shadow fell over him, and he looked up to see R'Kar standing above him. He leaned back in his chair and said, "I was wondering if you'd come say hello."

"Sssorry," the Gorn said, his tongue sticking out to lip his lips, "I wisssh to convey my sssincccer thanksss."

"For what?' he asked.

"Your sssponsssorship of me to the Academy," he crossed his arms and bowed slightly, "You gave me a life, when I had none. And you didn't even know me."

"Actually I did," Norvak replied, "I knew your sires when they were still alive. The first Gorn family to come here and live within the Federation boundaries. Let me tell you, Commander R'Kar, it was no small feet to keep the Gorn Hegemony from going to war over your family's coming here."

"A ssshame that sssome of Ssstarfleet felt in neccesssary to murder my sssiresss," R'kar growled.

"Then why did you accept?" Norvak asked. "You could have stayed away and no one would have cared."

"But I would not disssshonor the Federation by declining the opportunity to prove sssome officccersss are not that bad," R'Kar said, "I would even have perhapsss usssed it for revenge against thossse who did it. But now I have ssseen mossst are good people."

Norvak smiled. That was the point of the Federation of United Planets. It was not meant just for the perfect. But for the group to become better than who they were.

* * *

It had been a long night. Productive, giving him a better understanding of what was needed to be done. But, in the end, he would never totally be prepared for every contingency. So, he had to be flexible. He stepped up to his quarters and begin entering in the combination to open the door.

"Revenge!" the voice spat from behind as Norvak headed towards his quarters, "Die!"

Norvak felt the object smash across the side of his face. He collapsed, blacking out before he hit the floor. The object raised again, but there was a shout and the figure fled.

**Act 3**

The door slid open to Tryke's quarters, and Tryke looked up from his bed, removing a small metallic object from his hand and sliding the glove onto his hand he always wore. He nodded to the Gorn security chief.

"What bring you to my humble quarters?' he asked, pushing himself up.

"Ambasssssador Norvak wasss attacked near hisss quarters," he informed him, two security officers hanging near the door.

"And what does that have to do with...ah," he nodded slowly, "I see. I am your number one suspect. We have a history and something might have gone down."

"What were you doing an hour ago?" R'kar asked, sniffing the air.

"I was doing exercises here in my quarters," Tryke said, "And no, no one can vouch for me."

The Gorn nodded slowly, his inner eyelids closing as he looked down at the human. "Forgive me," he said, "But I mussst take you to the Brig."

"To hold me until the investigation is over," Tryke nodded. He stood up and straightening his shirt said, "Alright, lead the way."

* * *

McCoy leaned over Norvak's body, holding a caurterizer in his hands and cauterizing the wound. In this instance, it was the best way to treat the type of injury he had sustained until he was more able to fully examine him. But about a third of the crew had randomly come down with Rigellian Flu. And he also needed to focus on them as well.

"How is he, Doctor?" Stubbs asked, standing on the other side of the bed.

"He's suffered heavy cranial trauma," McCoy said, finishing his work, "He's going to need at least a week to recover."

Stubbs ran a hand through his hair and Trust, standing next to him, heaved a sigh. This was not good news. Everything they had heard suggested that these were time sensitive negotiations, and Norvak was one of the foremost diplomats in the Federation. If he was down, it could only signify trouble.

"We need to return to Earth and grab a new delegate," Trust said.

Stubbs shook his head. "No," he said.

"Sir?" Trust asked.

"We need this war over as soon as possible," Stubbs replied, "Too much is riding upon the success of the mission. I will have to take over the discussions."

"You?" Trust blinked, "Sir, I don't doubt your ability, but you are a soldier."

"What is a Federation captain if he is not both warrior and diplomat?" the Captain said, "Besides, we are about to enter the Neutral Zone. We can't turn back now. Don't worry, Number One. I can do the job as easily as the next man."

"Aye sir," Trust replied, but inwardly he did doubt if they could pull it off.

It was a high profile military base next to the planet Thrace in Romulan space. Constructed back in the time of the Romulan War, it had grown from a singular circular station in space to include seven defensive barriers surrounding the central complex. It acted as both a prison and headquarters of the Vorcha Sector of the Romulan Star Empire. Prisoners of note who had been here had been Travis Mayweather, con officer of the original Enterprise back before the Federation and of modern times, General Martok, who spent six months in his youth there after a disastrous battle with the Romulans.

"Approaching the Rings of Mercury base now," navigation reported, as Invincible approached the first barrier.

"Hail the base," Stubbs ordered and R'Kar nodded and opened hailing frequencies.

The screen changed to show a Romulan commander, an old battle scar riveting down his right cheek and the ear missing on that side. "USS Invincible," the commander said, "Surrender your navigation controls to base command immediatly."

"We'd rather-" Trust stopped after the screen switched off, leaving a picture of the multi-barriered base. "Not very chatty."

Stubbs didn't let any anxiety on his face as the ship. He as well didn't like the idea of surrendering the controls to Romulan hands. But, he didn't have much choice.

"Ensign," he ordered, "Do as the Commander ordered."

"Aye."

Three hours passed with the ship being pulled up to a barrier. Stopped and scanned, it would be allowed to pass to the next barrier, each gate being in a different way, Meanwhile, as this was going on, a flight of warbirds followed them closely, every movement, weapons charged. Finally, after the seventh stop and scan, the last gate opened, and in flew Invincible into a region of space literally crawling with Romulan base was on a moon that had been converted entirely to a base. Seven squadrons of warbirds, three to each, circled the base at all times. Scanners swept the area from towers and defensive platforms followed every thing that moved.

* * *

"This way," a Romulan centurion said, directing them down a corridor. Behind them was two Remans and every door had two Remans flanking either side.

"Tighter then Fort Knox," Stubbs remarked, R'Kar following him closely. The Romulans might have dissolved any weapons during the transport, but the Gorn was a weapon in and of himself.

A door opened into an office, and in they were pushed. The door closed behind them, but even without the Reman guards, the multiple cameras in the room would make it impossible to do anything. And on the other side of a small desk was a Romulan deep in work.

"Just got to finishing signing my signature...and done," Imperator Stulon said, pushing aside the stack of data PADDs that littered his desk, "Welcome to the Rings of Mercury, gentlemen. Forgive the hospitality, but I would find it less then agreeable to allow you free access."

"Your house," Stubbs shrugged, "Your rules."

"I will admit I was looking forward to Ambassador Norvak to be here," Stulon said, "How is his condition? I hope he's not too critically damaged."

Stubbs frowned. "How do you know that?" he asked suspiciously.

"I have sources everywhere," he said simply, "But come now, we have much to discuss, Captain. How can we end this war and save face for all involved?"

**Act 4**

_Captain's Log - Supplemental: The proceedings are going slowly. I have no gift for diplomacy and I'm about to shoot myself with a phaser._

"This is pretty slow goings," Stubbs said, leaning back in the chair at the head of the Conference table, "I just hope we'll be able to sooner or later be able to finalize something. Sooner would be more preferable then later."

"So," Trust snorted, "The Romulan is making things difficult."

"No," he shook his head, "Problem is that neither one of us is a diplomat. We are both soldiers, and as such say whatever comes to mind. If only Ambassador Norvak was up to par. How is the proceedings going, Stitch?"

McCoy shrugged. "I'm not sure how soon he'll be in any condition to help. He only comes into conciousness maybe ten minutes per day, but he took a rather heavy beating to his head."

"Next time he awakes and I'm on the ship," Stubbs said, pointing a finger at the Doctor, "Inform me. I could use his guidance."

"As you wish," James McCoy said.

"Have you begun interrogating Tryke yet?" Stubbs asked.

R'Kar hissed. "I wasss planning on doing ssso today," he answered.

"Have Councillor Grax with you," he ordered, "She a full-blown telepath. Be a great help for you detect falsehoods and get the truth."

* * *

_Invincible_ was one of the few Starfleet ships that had a specific room for interrogation. The room was completely blacked out, except for a massive spotlight that highlighted the center of the room. A single chair with no back but still had armrests was in the center of the intense beam of light. And Adam sat on the chair, his Borg ocular implants still able to filter out some of the light for him. The only thing about having Borg machinery in him that was worthwhile.

On either side of him in the dark was two booths. In one sat R'Kar, his tail somehow managing to squeeze between the backrest and the seat. On the other side was Jemma Grax. A small commpanel connected the two that only let the occupants inside the booths hear each other without filtering out into the main room.

"Commander Tryke," R'Kar spoke into a small microphone that came out through four speakers, not allowing the person sitting to focus on a singular direction, "Thisss isss jussst to determine whether you are guilty or not of assssualting Ambassssador Norvak. Anything you sssay will be weighed and procccccessssed to determine truth or liesss. If you lie, I will know. Underssstood?"

"Completely," Tryke said, folding his arms, "Let's get started shall we?"

"Where where you at 2200 Hours four days ago?"

* * *

Commander Mollen bent down next to the warp reactor, looking at a panel near the floor. It had been recently used and not put back in properly. Whoever did this was going to get a tanning of their hide. There was only three people in engineering besides himself, the rest having gone to bed. Now it was just the Night Shift crew. He had come in because he couldn't sleep and had discovered the raised panel.

"Can I help you sir?" Lt. Hucklebee asked, the Deltan female asked from behind him.

"Who was the last person to work on the warp core?" he asked.

"Sir?" she asked, frowning.

Sam pointed at the panel. "Someone was here and didn't replace the panel correctly," he said, "And someone could have tripped over it. Who was working here?"

"No one sir," she replied, "At least, not to my knowledge."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Good gravy woman," he grunted, "No one does any work on here without informing the supervising officer. That's standard procedure. Who did it?"

"No one talked to me about doing anything," she stated again.

"Great," Sam huffed, "Let's see what is going on down here."

He pulled up on the panel and pushed it across and as Lt. Hucklebee watched him, he pocked his head into there and spotted immediately something not good. This was going to be a problem.

"Are you sure about that?" Commander Trust asked, leaning forward in the First Officers chair.

_"Ain't no doubt about it,"_ the Texan engineer reported, _"Someone really screwed the bottom of the Warp core. It's the same thing as the _Titanic_."_

_"_The _Titanic_?" Trust frowned.

"_The reason it sank wasn't because it hit an iceberg_," Mollen explained, "_It sank because one screw wasn't tightened like it was supposed to. Then when something bad happened to it, threw everything for a loop._"

"I don't get the reference," Trust explained, "What type of ship was it?"

There was a few second pause and everyone on the bridge turned to look at him in disbelief. "_Old 19th Century liner from Earth_," Sam responded, "_Are you serious you've never heard about the Titanic before?"_

_Great, no one will ever let me forget about this,_ Trust thought glumly to himself. Out loud he asked, "How long until you finish repairs?"

"_The whole lower assemblage that controls power output has been shot_," Mollen replied, "_I'd say two days_."

"Just let me know when you have finished the repairs," he said.

* * *

"The Romulan Star-Empire is ruined financially."

"I think you are mistaken."

"Then why do you want to talk peace?"

"Because this conflict is getting us no gains. Only longer casualty lists."

"But wouldn't you be able to hire mercenaries? Surely you can afford them. Oh, wait, that's right. The Romulas System housed seventy-five percent of the Imperial wealth."

Stulon sent a heated glare at Stubbs. Stubbs immediately was regretful for the comment. He had bumbled this entire diplomatic session and was nowhere closer to ending the war. And Imperator Stulon hadn't exactly been without his own blunders either on the diplomatic front.

Stulon grabbed the tall slender and curved bottle of Romulan ale and poured into the two glasses in front of both men. He had a strained smile on his face as he closed the bottle and pushed a glass towards Stubbs. Stubbs took it gratefully and took a small sip. And was at once hit in the nostrils with the very potent flavor of Romulan ale.

"What a fine set of diplomats we make," the Imperator sniffed.

"Hasn't been my finest moment," Stubbs agreed.

The Imperator stood up and walker towards the console behind him and grabbed a small dagger. He turned to Stubbs and he noted the make of it. Jem'Hadar.

"During the Dominion War, Shinzon who was a Fleet Admiral at the time sent me to a planet near the border of Romulan and Klingon space. On the planet, which we only knew by the designation of KM-701-A, the Dominion had set up a base, including a Ketracel white factory. Well, it was more a substitute than the real deal. Anyways, my orders were to destroy the base. But, I instead tried to talk the enemy into defecting. And you know what happened?"

"It didn't work," Stubbs said.

Stulon smirked. "If only," he said. "No, they actually joined us. Shinzon was successful against the Dominion because I was able to talk them into joining us. They gave us battleplans and everything. You'd think this would be easier."

"You'd think," he agreed, but Stubbs was getting a sinking feeling. Perhaps they wouldn't be able to make peace at this rate.

"Did you have any reason to attack the Ambassador?" Grax asked in their third interrogation.

"We certainly were no friends," Tryke replied.

"Exxxplain," R'Kar asked in turn.

"He was the JAG officer at my court-martial seven years ago," he replied, closing his eyes and taking a long slow breath, "He was the prosecution. He pushed for me to get the Death Penalty, but settled for my seventeen year imprisonment."

"It isss possssible you sssaw an opportunity to attack him and get revenge," the Gorn said.

"Possible," he shook his head, "But I didn't do it. I am sure the internal sensor logs show that."

There was a slight hesitation. "The records don't show you at all that day on the ship," Grax finally said, "Your replicator wasn't used, nor was the lights. It as if you weren't here at all. Why is that?"

Tryke shrugged and leaned back into his chair. He wasn't going to answer anymore question. Grax repeated the question, but he sat with arms crossed. An old tactic, the same a child would use. But it was one that was worth the effort.

* * *

Ambassador Norvak awoke again in Sickbay, blinking around. He was laying on a table, and for a throbbing in his head, more or less he was intact. He tried sitting upright, but tired muscles didn't allow him. Letting out a moan he laid back.

"That's why one doesn't move until the Doctor gives the okay," Doctor McCoy said, stepping up to him, "So, how are you feeling?"

Norvak heard the fast beeps as the medical scanner ran up and down. He blinked a couple times, trying to think about how he was feeling.

"Not bad," he said, but he winced as McCoy poked him in the side, "Okay, maybe less than the best."

"Good man," McCoy patted him on the shoulder, "I really hate it when the patient decides to be cute with me. Be honest, that's all I have to say. So, you remember anything?"

"No..." Norvak began to say but think said, "I was attacked. I know that."

"You've been incoherent for the past few days when you've been awake," McCoy said.

"I don't remember that," Norvak commented, frowning as he thought.

"It might come back to you in time," McCoy replied, "But, don't press it too hard."

Norvak frowned as the comprehension dawned on him. _Days? _How many days had he been out? It wasn't a good thing to hear the word "days."

"How long have I been out?"

"Eight days now," he replied.

"Imperator Stulon!" Norvak exclaimed, trying to rise up, "Whose doing the negotiations with him? Is anyone?"

"Captain Stubbs is," McCoy replied, forcing him back down, "Don't worry, he hasn't yet gotten us fired at in the three days we've been here."

"I need to see him," Norvak said, "It's urgent. There's a Reman on board."

* * *

"Are you sure it was a Reman?" Stulon asked, his hands laid on the table.

"The Ambassador saw him before he passed out," Stubbs accused, "So is this some trap on your part? Lure us in under false pretenses and then destroy our ship?"

Stulon smiled ruefully. "It is a move worthy of a Romulan," he said, "But consider this, Terran. You have been here for three days now. Why would I wait? Our fleet has proved more than capable of dealing with the_ Invincible _in the past."

"I don't know," Stubbs waved his hand. "Perhaps you wanted our guard down so we wouldn't be able to react. Or, why waste lives of Romulans when a Reman saboteur could do it with almost no loss to yourself."

Stulon lowered his head, pure frustration on his face. Raising his hand, but keeping his head down, his straightened hair of his bowl-cut hanging low he asked, "Have you also considered there are elements of the Romulan Government that don't want a peace with your Federation? We are creatures of honor and duty, Captain. And there is no honor then turning to an enemy and saying 'we've been beaten'. And to say so is a failure of our duty."

"Perhaps," Stubbs replied, "But peace is the way."

"Listen, Captain," Stulon snapped, raising his head, "I am doing this because the Empire needs peace. It needs it to survive. But if I could, I would fight. But at what cost is war too much? Empress Sela said there was no way we could fail and many sided with her. But listen, if you aren't going to take this seriously, either send over your Ambassador whether he is well or not, or leave Romulan space immediatly. We will fight the good fight if needs be."

* * *

"That was great," Ashley said, taking a few unsteady breaths, "Just to imagine, I never knew how big you were."

"Great things about being a virgin," Jonathon replied, running a finger up and down the sweaty length of his bride's arm, "The first time is amazing."

"I can't believe it took you seven _days _for me to get you in the sack," she shook her head.

"Sorry I didn't jump on you as soon as you undressed," he said defensively, "I was afraid I'd damage you."

"You are an idiot," she rolled her eyes. And standing up, fully naked, walked over to the motion activated faucet in the sink to wash her face off.

The door opened to the holosuite and in rushed a Reman. The two Starfleet personalle and the Reman blinked as they stared at each other. The Reman took two steps back and the door closed behind them.

"That's odd," Jonathon said, "Should we call it?"

Ashley turned to him and smiling said, "I have a better idea. Let's have another go."

Jonathon shrugged. "I can agree with that."

**Act 5**

The Reman pressed himself against the bulkhead, hearing security personal hunting for him a couple corridors away from him. He had to get off the _Invincible_ and soon. Ever since he had run into the two Terrans in their holographic suite, he had run into one complication after another. There wasn't much time, and if he didn't get off soon, he'd be certainly found and killed. The time of discretion was passed, and so using his abnormally long fingernails, her pulled out a small communicator that looked like an old Terran coin and pressed the button.

"Ka'Riva to Reman One," he whispered, his gravelly deep voice barely coming out longer that a burp of noise.

"_Reman One here_," a voice on the other end said, although the voice was not Reman at all. But human. A human female's voice.

"I need immediate evac transport off this ship," he said.

"_Is _Invincible_ about to destroyed?_"

"No," he reported, "The Starfleet has discovered me. I am not able to complete the mission."

There was a momentary silence on the other end of the line. "_Then you are no use to us_," the voice replied, and the Reman collapsed as a burning pain spread throughout his body.

* * *

"_Bridge to R'Kar_."

"R'Kar," the Gorn replied.

"_We have picked up an unauthorized transmission off the ship coming from Section Alpha Three not two minutes ago_."

"On it," R'Kar growled, and beckoning to the two Human security officers at his left set off at great lopping strides, each stride three human feet. So much for the theory that Gorn were slow and ungainly in thier paces. Past three officers he bowled past, the speed of his movements knocking them over. He turned a sharp turn down a corrdiro and watched as a Reman disintegrated in yellow flames before his eyes, not screaming but with fists clenched. Soon there was no sign of his ever being there.

He spat in his own language and pressing his comlink said, "R'Kar to bridge. Hesss dead."

* * *

"Once again you dodge the bullet, my friend," the Vulcan said, sitting on the bench next to Tryke, the birds whistling in the trees.

"What am I going to do?" Adam asked, hanging his head down, "I am trying so hard to make it with this crew, and my near death experience has helped change my attitude. But, in the end, what has it gotten me? Every time something bad happens, I am to blame. The First Officer is out to get me, and I won't even go into details with what everyone else thinks. What am I to do?"

The Vulcan blinked at him and looked away. The trees of the old Hemingway Baseball Historical Park blew with a gentle breeze that caused every leaf to shake and rustle in the wind. Tryke had never been a fan of baseball, but the Vulcan hadn't minded it. He thought the game was "Intriguing". An interesting word to describe a game all but extinct, even with the feeble efforts to restore it, it was still a backwater game.

"Have you ever considered transferring from _Invincible_?" the Vulcan asked.

"Transferring?" Tryke asked, almost aghast at the very idea.

"Yes," Merlek explained, "You have said it yourself. The crew doesn't trust you. Even now. And besides, there are a ton of ships in need of a captain because of the Borg invasion. You wouldn't exactly be out of work, now, would you?"

Tryke looked out in the distance letting a long breath out. Why was it so logical when put like that? Why did it sound so...

He snapped awake from his trance, sitting on the edge of his bed. One of the unique qualities of being a liberated Borg drone was that any telepathic connection of the depth that he and Merlek had was the nanites would imprint those pathways and they could be accessed. He litterally had a holographic version of Merlek in his mind. And everything he said, made sense. Too much sense.

* * *

"Now that you are both done with your honeymoon," Stubbs said, looking the young married couple in the eyes, "What in H-l's name prevented you from reporting the Reman when he entered your holosuite?"

Jonathon and Ashley looked at each-other cautiously before turning back to look at him. "What Reman sir?" Jonathon finally asked.

"Don't give me that!" he slapped his palm on the table, "We know from internal sensors that for roughly ten seconds, the Reman saboteur entered the holodeck you were on. Why didn't you report it?"

Jonathon seemed to shrink and shrugged his shoulders. "I asked her if we should..."

"You asked her!" Stubbs threw up his head and laughed without any mirth, "You are the ranking officer in your marriage. At least in the way Starfleet views it. Even if you aren't the boss, you still outrank her. You _do not _ask her for command decisions. _You_ make the decisions. Is that understood?"

He slowly nodded his head and Stubbs turned his gaze on Ashley.

"As for you young lady," he snarled, "Is Ensign Lendon good in bed?"

She looked surprised by the question. But her lewd smile answered the question for her. Stubbs contained a small chuckle.

"Now get out of here," Stubbs said, "This is both going in your permanent records."

"You should have given them a harsher punishment then a reprimand," Trust replied, having sat nearby the entire time.

Stubbs shrugged. "They're both young and in love," Stubbs said, "Allowances need to be made. And besides. Their marriage is punishment enough."

* * *

"As the treaty reads now," Norvak replied, holding the long printed out version of the treaty (a very archaic way to sign treaties) "Romulan forces will surrender all captured Federation territories and all forces will immediately withdraw from contested areas. All prisoners will be returned to the Federation and vise-versa. The Neutral Zone will be reconfigured in which two systems will be added to the Romulan Star Empire to make up for the loss of the Romulan Imperial System. And the Federation is to withdraw all forces from the Neutral Zone. Is this acceptable?"

Stulon sat there, his calm face showing none of the emotion of the proud man at the laying low and dictation of terms to him. "I don't know if it is entirely acceptable," he remarked, "Nothing will bring back the lives of so many lost for so little gains against your Federation. But, our occupation of most of the Klingon Empire will have to satisfy us."

Norvak lifted his hands up and cracked his knuckles one by one. It was what he did when he was dissatisfied with something. And it was this he was not satisfied with. The treaty was all well and good. But he did not get everything he wanted.

"I wish you would reconsider your position on the Klingons," he replied, "You have said so yourself you need to end the war. Why hang onto to the Klingon provinces you have captured?"

Stulon leaned forward and with a sad smile said, "It is not the dawn we fear most. It is not the death of millions we shirk from. We are conquerors, destroyer of worlds. The one thing we fear is the loss of face for no gain."

"Who said that?" Norvak asked.

"Our greatest philosopher, the madman Relen," he replied.

"What ever happened to the philosophy, 'A gift that cannot be given away is a trap'?" Norvak asked.

"Great Empires are not maintained by timidity."

"Who says?"

"The Earth Roman historian, Tacitus," Stulon said, "We keep the Klingons. And you get your planets back."

"The art of compromising is that both sides are left unhappy," Norvak said in defeat on the topic, "So we have both succeeded."

"Indeed," Stulon said, holding out his hand to Norvak. Norvak accepted the hand, thus signaling the end of the Second Romulan War.

* * *

"To peace!" Stubbs said, holding up his glass at the table, the entire senior staff and Ambassador Norvak lifting their glasses.

"I am looking forward to leaving the Romulan Empire behind," R'Kar growled, "To messssy a placccce."

"You and me both," Sam Mollen agreed, "That d-n Reman gave me double shifts for three days fixing everything he ruined."

They continued chatting and eating the dinner of fine replicated cuisine. Except for R'Kar, who could not stomach replicated food. He had to have real meat, and so he had the only real steak in the entire room.

* * *

"Well done," the Admiral Constance replied with a big smile, "Without war we can begin thinking towards the future."

"Except we have the Borg still," he reminded her.

"One war at a time," she quipped, "Now, as soon as you come back, we need you to go to Tellar Prime and assist in the repairs of the planetary defense grid."

"Why not leave that to Starfleet Engineering?" he asked.

"No question of orders," she held up a finger, "Starfleet out."

The screen went dark and Stubbs leaned back in his chair, hoping for a better tomorrow. But, as of now, he'd give himself a moment to rest. For there was a dangerous horizon about to arise that he knew nothing about.

* * *

Sela laid in the cell, no one coming to give her news of the outside. So long had she been here, alone in solitary confinement, that she had lost track of the days or weeks or months she had been here. Her life had gone from the pinnacle of Imperial Glory to the abysmal simple existence of a condemned prisoner. She had plans to escape, although even she knew there was no escape. A small latch opened on bottom of the cell and a plate of replicated food and three water cubes was pushed in. Just enough to keep her from starving and dying of thirst.

But, she didn't rise to get her food. No, she just stared at the ceiling, Hoping that she'd be able to sooner or later get her revenge. And the ways of revenge were growing on who she'd wreck havoc on. So long had she been in here though, that even as she looked, she hallucinated that part of the ceiling had momentarily become fuzzy with heard static in her ears. She closed her eyes, willing the hallucination away.

"You haven't lost it yet," she moaned to herself, "You aren't going crazy. Be gone."

And as she opened her eyes again, the hallucination was gone.

From the observation post on the side of her cell, a human stood in black leather suit and gloves. He checked the controls and the diagnostic equipment. Good, everything was functioning within normal parameters. Good thing it hadn't been caught.

"What happened?" a woman's voice asked and he grimaced.

"Power fluctuation caused a momentary power failure in one of the couplings," he replied, "But it has been corrected."

"Good," she replied coldly, "I would hate for you to fail. I have had enough with failures the past week."

"You referring to the _Invincible_ mission?" he asked, glancing back at the woman in the shadows. The only thing he could see was her massive bust and her tights thighs and boots. "What happened there?"

"Agent R-1 failed in his mission," she replied.

"He got captured?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

"Don't worry," she said with a cold smile in her voice, "I eliminated him. Trust me, he won't be talking to anyone."

"Of course," he nodded his head and suddenly he grabbed his chest as pain flared inside him. He could feel himself beginning to burn from the inside out. He collapsed to the ground, squirming around on the floor. The pain stopped, but smoke was rising from above him.

"Don't make me use the full setting," she replied and next thing he heard, the door to the holodeck opened and he was by himself. Panting.


	6. Episode 6: Resistance is Futile

** Chapter 6: Resistance is Futile**

**Teaser**

Captain Stubbs and Commander Tryke stood in the main disembark station of Space Station 33. Here a Federation starship was meant to arrive, dropping off the prisoners of war from the late Second Romulan War. All the sacrifices were miniscule to the final victory that had been achived by Harry Norvak and Stulon, Imperator of the Romulan Star-Empires' military. They had both lost many comrades in the battles fought against the Romulans and Borg, but they were soon going to have some of that suffering allievated.

"If you were any more nervous I'd have to give you a tranquilizer," Stubbs mused as his Science officer was beginning to sweat.

"I'll be fine," Tryke replied, although he raised a gloved hand to wipe away the beads of sweat, "Just as soon as the prisoners are back."

Stubbs smiled at that, looking away at the green light that signaled the shuttles had begun docking. These shuttles were specifically carrying crew of the USS Invincible. And it was specifically a woman that had Tryke wound up tighter than a cord.

The doors to the shuttle bay opened and grimey, filth covered Starfleet officers made their way onto the station. Seventy had been captured by the Romulans, but as the flow of liberated Humans, Terallians, Bolians and other Federation soldiers exited, it was quiet clear that they were quiet a few short of seventy. Stubbs did a quick count as they made their way to him, and only twenty had emerged from the shuttles.

"Lt. Malzaer," Stubbs ordered, "Where is the rest of the prisoners?"

The Bolian blinked at him, one of his eyes having been torn out. "They...experimented on many of us. Killed them. We don't know what they wanted. Some...were taking and never heard from again. I don't know why sir."

"What of Doctor King?" Tryke asked nervously, "Surely they didn't experiment on her?"

"She was the last taken away," Malzaer reported, "She volunteered to go instead of me after my eye was taken."

**Act 1**

"Strange request," Admiral Beeotch of the Federation's Seventh Fleet replied. He looked over that had been sent to him, his small eyes not seeming to fit his massive round face and disheveled whiskers. "I've never had a Science Officer ask for this."

"I am no ordinary Science Officer."

"I can see that," Beeotch snorted. He took another glance at it. "And I must admit, we've taken heavy losses trying to keep the Dominion in the Bajoran Sector. I'll agree to this. Make sure though you clear it with your captain. Admiral Beootch out."

* * *

"What is this?" Stubbs asked, looking at the PADD being handed him by Commander Tryke.

"It is quiet clear," he replied, his hands behind his back, "It's a request to be transferred."

Joshua leaned back, dropping the PADD onto his desk. His brow furrowed in confusion. The past few month had been enjoyable working with Tryke, having changed his ways. He even seemed to be enjoying himself here, at long last.

"Why?" he asked.

Tryke's hands were behind his back, and his face was a mask of calm that showed a man who had thought this through.

"The _USS Kahn Noonien Singh _needs a new captain," he said, "I think I can provide a valuable service for them."

"Such postings are not for people who aren't First Officers," the Captain reminded him.

"I think my years as Captain of the _Saladin_ makes me more than qualified," he replied.

"I need you here on the _Invincible_," Stubbs argued, "With us fighting the Borg, I need my top ranking Borg officer here."

"You need me less than you think," Tryke replied, "And besides, I'm tired of seeing the way the crew looks at me on this ship. They only know I am a Captain, disgraced and broken in rank. At least there I can start anew. Get back to what I need to be. A Captain."

"You are performing invaluable service here," Stubbs said, "You're a -"

"A man bereft of all dreams and hopes," Tryke interrupted, "A man who seen death in the eye and smiled back at it. I have commanded starships and been liberated from the clutches of the Borg. I have seen Heaven, but have fallen, with no hope of rising. I see people advancing in rank, and I have been dropped from Security to Science Officer."

"The Federation was bred to explore the Galaxy," Stubbs reminded him, "It is more glorious to search for science and expanding of knowledge."

"Forgive me, sir," the Commander replied, "I was bred to be a destroyer of worlds. I was molded to be an assimilator. I was crafted to add the biological and technology distinctiveness to the perfection of the master race. I was Borg. I am Borg. I will always be Borg. And the Borg seek not understanding, but mastery over all."

Stubbs watched as the life left Tryke's eyes as he spoke. It was frightening to behold. He had once attended a seminar on the psychology of trauma victims and he had learned that no one ever escapes the clutches of their captors. They lurk in the mind, causing a real hold mentally over a person. Especially when they had spent almost twenty years serving a ruthless force. He saw it here now, Tryke's true thoughts exposed. As much as he shed the Borg and returned to humanity, he was Borg.

"Why are you leaving us?" he asked, "You have friends here..."

"Who?" Tryke asked, his eyes hardening with both anger and grief, "Merlek? Dead at the hands of d-n Romulans. Admiral Harmon? Dead. Sarah? Dead."

"You have Jonathon," he reminded him.

"He's living his own life now," he said wistfully, "He needs me no more."

"What about me?" he asked, "What about your sister?"

"She hates me," Tryke said sadly, "And forgive me sir, we've never been friends. Nor will we ever be."

Stubbs sighed as he realized that Tryke wouldn't stay. His mind was already made up. He was leaving, and never coming back. Too many ghosts wandered this ship for his own good.

"Alright," he nodded slowly, using a stylus on the side to sign his name, "I hope you find what you are looking for Commander."

Tryke nodded and turning left him by himself, walking out of the ready room.

* * *

He picked up the civilian clothing and put them in his luggage bag. He had no need for many bags, preferring to travel light. Yes, he had many historical artifacts, but the information he received would not allow him enough room to keep them all.

His door chimed and he said, "Enter."

"You're leaving us?" The question was asked even before the asker said, entering the room.

"Yes, sir," he said, glancing at Commander Trust as he leaned against the frame.

"Good," Trust sneered, "No longer do I have to watch you. Make sure you don't freak out on me."

"You caused more than your fair share of anxiety."

"Perhaps," Trust said, "You just better be gone when you said you'd be gone."

With that, he stepped backwards out of the room, the door shutting beside him. Tryke hadn't even resumed his clothing when his door chimed again. He closed his eyes, wondering what sick prank the Commander was up to.

"Enter," he said annoyed, but it was Jonathon to which the doors opened.

"I came to say goodbye," he said, "And help pack if you needed it."

"Thanks," he said, "I'm sending most of this stuff back to my house on P'Jem. Can you see they get delivered?"

"Yeah," the young Ensign said. He walked into the room and up to the artifacts. "Thought you'd also like to know, Ashley and I have decided to have a kid."

"Best of luck then," Tryke smiled, "You've got a great future ahead of you."

"Only if the Borg don't wipe us out first," Jonathon muttered.

* * *

"Hey!" the voice rang out from down the hall, and Adam turned, a bag slung over one shoulder and his suitcase in the other.

"Thought you would never come," he quipped to Sam Mollen as he caught up, huffing a little.

"First off," he gasped, bending over a little and placing a hand on his leg. "I need to work out more."

"I can see that," Adam grinned.

"Secondly," he said, straightening a little as he got his wind back, "Just thought you'd like me to walk you down to the shuttle bay."

"Good," Tryke nodded, and started heading off towards the shuttle bay at a leisure pace, "I wanted to give you some words of advice as I head off."

"Oh?" Sam asked, following him.

"Why do you have to be a son of a b-h?" Tryke asked.

Mollen snorted. "How is that advice?" he asked.

"You got Jamie pregnant and then you run off as soon as she tells you," Tryke reminded him, "Only the most selfish b-ds do that. Did you really think you had no responsibility? You put your claim on here when you did that, and then you discarded her like nobody's business."

Mollen stared at him, his pride stung and a little angry. "And how did you know this?" he demanded.

"Because Ensign Gardner's first assignment was on the _USS Saladin,"_ he said, "And I became a big brother of sorts. Sure, you don't see us much together, but most of what we do is just between us and has no need of being advertised. But she came crying to me and told me what an as-le you are."

"It's none of your business what goes on between me and her!" he snapped.

"There is no 'me and her'," Tryke retorted, "Or did you forget that you bailed on her? Life is too short for such nonsense, Lt. Commander Mollen. I know you are a good man. Own up and man up."

They walked in strained silence as they headed towards the shuttle bay.

As the two men approached the shuttle bay, Tryke saw to his astonishment roughly one hundred of the crew lining the way to the door. They stood in dress uniforms, and Stubbs stepped up to him.

"What's all this, sir?" he asked.

"I asked all those who were willing to give you an honorary farewell to line up to send you a heroes farewell," he said, "You have made an impact on more people then you can imagine. Atten-HUT!"

The entire line snapped to attention, and Adam walked down the long line of people. None broke protocal, except for Jonathon, who held out his hand and shook it. As he approached the door to the shuttle bay, to his delight he saw the massive Gorn there, his tail thumping against the wall. It heartened him to see the giant reptile there.

"Lt. Commander R'Kar," he said, "I am honored to see you here."

"I am honored to have ssserved with you," the Raptor said, incling his head ever so slightly, "I would have enjoyed a warriorsss death at your ssside."

"Don't discount it yet," Tryke said, "We may yet fight at each other's side."

"Yesss, sssir," R'Kar nodded.

The shuttle bay doors opened and he stepped through. And with a hiss they closed behind them. Taking a deep breath, he stepped towards the shuttle _Alpha Dots_, an ensign standing there, ready for him to board the ship. Entering the shuttle, he stepped up to the copilots seat and sat down. The shuttle hummed as it prepared to leave the ship.

"Shuttle _Alpha Dots _to_ Invincible_," said the pilot, "Requesting permission to depart."

"You are cleared to leave shuttle Alpha Dots."

The ship exited the shuttle bay and turning left, Tryke was able to look one last time upon the oval shaped saucer section of the USS _Invincible_. And with a push of a button, they went to warp and the ship was gone from sight.

**Act 2**

"So who do we replace at Ops?" Stubbs asked. "Recommendations?"

"I'd say Lieutenant Mikdolval," Trust said, sitting on the small couch that he'd really never seen Captain Stubbs sit in, "Science Department."

"Mikdolval?" Stubbs frowned. "I don't know if I like a Tellarite at Ops."

Trust shrugged. "Your call sir, but he's the best for the position," he pointed out.

Stubbs closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. He really hated having to make changes in command. Even if they were needed.

"Very well," he said, not opening his eyes, "Have him report to the bridge tomorrow morning."

Trust nodded and standing up, headed out of the ready room.

* * *

"There she is," the ensign said, pointing at the viewport.

"Yes, ensign," Commander Tryke said, glancing at the Miranda-Class Starship, this one having the roll bar superstructure that many of the newer of her class lacked, "You'll be fine getting back to _Invincible_ on your own?"

The ensign smirked. "Of course sir," he said, "I'm not _that_ green."

* * *

The hanger bay had maybe twenty of the crew on hand, including the First Officer and the Chief Tactical Officer. These alone could be spared, the Engineering Chief and most of the rest of the crew currently working on repairs. But, as the tall 6'1 First Officer stood there, glancing at the shuttle as it came in, he could feel the blond mid shoulder-length haired Tactical Officer fidget slightly.

"A little nervous, Lt. Wallace?" he asked in a deep and baritone British accent. He glanced down at her shorter form.

"Not at all sir," she replied in her own high-voiced British accent, "You?"

He glanced at the shuttle as the back popped open and out from the back came the 6'2 Human male who would be Captain of the _USS Kahn Noonien Singh_. "Fear is for lesser men," he replied.

* * *

"As of Stardate 65444.208, I, Adam Trajan Tryke, Captain, take command of the USS _Kahn Noonien Singh_," Tryke said, holding the PADD in his hand, "Computer, transfer all Command Codes to my person."

"Transfer is complete," the Computer intoned, "Adam Trajan Tryke, the ship is now your command."

Tryke glanced around at all the people gathered. But his eyes rested on the First Officer, a human of dark eyes and black hair. And he could at once see the overflowing arrogance that he had. This should prove an interesting command.

"I am Adam Tryke," he said, wondering if they had turned on the ships intercom so they all could hear his voice, "I have been in Starfleet for almost fifteen years. I hope you'll all be able to place your trust in me and my trust in you. I will gain your trust by deeds, and not just flowery words. Now, I've never been a speaker, so I will let you return to your duties. Dismissed."

"Honor Guard! Dismissed!" the FIrst Officer barked and the group went their own ways, not without many of them glanced at him as they headed out.

Tryke stepped up to the two officers as they remained and held out his hand. "I assume you are Commander Harrison?" he asked.

"John Harrison," the man said, and taking the offered hand clenched as hard as he could. The two men stayed a few seconds in their embrace, both trying to crush the other man's hand. And they both looked into each other's eyes. Dominance needed to be established, and if Tryke let go now, he'd have already lost his command to this man. Finally Harrison relaxed his hand and they let go.

"Welcome to the _Kahn Noonien Singh_," he said, "And this is Security Chief Lieutenant Carol Wallace."

"Lieutenant," he took her hand, looking into the cool blue eyes of this busty woman, "Charmed."

"She's already spoken for sir," Harrison said, a hint of primal warning in his voice.

"Don't worry, Commander," Tryke patted his shoulder, "I have no need to pursue her. Besides, I bet the lieutenant is tired of men hitting on her."

"Actually," she interjected, "No, sir. I don't mind. But, we should keep this a professional relationship."

Tryke grinned. "Good answer," he said, "Let's get moving to the bridge. I want to get going as soon as possible. See my things get taking to my quarters."

"Of course."

"So, what about the Chief Engineer?"

"Chief Selvak is currently pressed trying to get this ship operational again," Harrison said, "Unlike you, we've had a hard time out here. No fancy starship that never gets hurt."

"Neither was the _Invincible_," Tryke said, "I can tell you that right now. What of the Science Officer? Lt. Commander Breleag?"

"Killed yesterday during a skirmish with a Jem'Hadar patrol ship," he said, leading Tryke to the turbolift, "Haven't chosen a replacement yet."

"Whose most qualified?" Tryke inquired as the doors hissed open.

"That would be Lt. Ramirez," Harrison replied.

"Advance them to the position," he said, "And what of Chief Medical Officer Ogowa?"

"Killed as well," he said, "Along with all but one of her staff. Medical Technician Salaz is taking over. But I'm afraid she's having troubles."

"Why?" he asked, the turbolift doors closing, "Bridge."

"She's Betazoid," he said, "A very powerful one, but hasn't yet learned to build the mental barriers."

Tryke closed his eyes. "D-n." he groaned, "This is going to be a fun assignment."

"That it is sir," Harrison replied.

* * *

Two days had passed, and Adam was beginning to feel right at home. He had wanted to get into the Captain's chair so badly, that now that he had it, it made him feel overly satisfied. His senior staff seemed pretty competent, even if there was quiet a bit of arrogance going around.

"You are already done with repairs?" he asked as he sat behind in the Ready Room.

"Yes," Chief Selvak replied, "Although, a more accurate term would be, almost done. All we have to do is finish recalibrating the warp coils. Once that is done, this ship will be fully functional again."

"Impressive," Tryke said, leaning back into his chair, "You will have to tell me the secret to your work."

"Of course sir," the Vulcan said, not noting the gleam of humor that came from the Captain, "Now sir, if that will be all, I must return to my work."

Tryke nodded. "Of course," he turned around in his chair to continue filling out his third official Captain's report.

The Vulcan left and he came across Commander Harrison who was standing at the door. "A most agreeable individual," Selvak said, "Do you not think so?"

"Perhaps," Harrison replied, "Perhaps."

* * *

Nearly a hundred Jem'Hadar attack ships lead the first wave, crashing through the thin line of _Akira_-Class starships. The_ Akira_ ships scattered falling back towards the massive starbase, anti-space weaponry charging. Two of the starships exploded, unable to move fast enough, but even the retreating ships did not entirely give up the fight, firing aft weapons. At least one Jem'Hadar ship vanished as it was plastered with several photon torpedoes.

Messages for assistance blared out from the ships, and soon, dropping out of warp speed, the USS _Challenger_ arrived. A massive _Galaxy_-Class starship, it was the first but not the last that would arrive. The Battle for Tyre was underway.

* * *

"Incoming message, Captain," Harrison said as Tryke walked on the bridge, "It's from the Admiral."

"Onscreen," Tryke said, and the Admiral's round face appeared.

"_Kahn Noonien Singh_!" he was screaming, "We are under attack! Get your fat kesters out here! You are letting us all die!"

"Call down sir," Tryke held up his gloved hand, "What's going on?"

"They're too powerful!" the Admiral now had tears streaming down his face, "It's all your fault! Where are you, Tryke? Save us! Save-"

The screen cut off and he blinked a couple times. He pointed to Lt. Wallace.

"Can you get him back?" he asked.

She pushed a few buttons. And then shook her head. "Sorry sir," she said, "The entire area has gone silent."

"Where did the transmission originate?" he asked.

"Tyre system," she said, looking at the display, "Probably got attacked by the Dominion."

"There were reports of troops buildup in the Bajoran sector," Harrison said from his seat.

"We can't do anything about it at the moment," Tryke said, "Computer, give me a record of all military actions in both the Borg and Dominion areas of action."

"Search will take three hours to complete."

"Understood," Tryke said, "Selvak, hurry along the repairs."

"Acknowledged."

"What are you thinking?" Harrison asked.

"I'm not sure yet," Tryke said, returning to sit down in his seat. "But I'll know it when I see it."

* * *

"I don't understand what you are getting at," Lt. Wallace said, looking at the screen, "Clearly the Borg and Dominion have been rampaging through our territory, yes. But I still am not sure what you are wanting me to see."

"I have to agree with her," Harrison said, his arms folded over his chest. Every motion seemed to speak of his own immense physical power, "The Borg have been all over the place, but the Dominion has only recently moved out of Bajor."

"All the Borg attacks have been in roughly this area," Tryke swept his hand and a circle came around the areas that had been attacked. "And as we can see, all the attacks have been going in one direction. Towards Earth. Sure, they've been hitting other places as well. But, note how they have not attacked any of the territories over in this part of the Federation?"

Red dots popped up with every attack in order. And there was a complete absence in the direction of Bajor and Tyre and roughly half of the Federation.

"Now, note the attacks from the Dominion," Tryke said.

And green dots appeared to the the south and east of Bajor. But even the attack against Tyre did not venture into the area or direction of where the Borg had been attacking. Harrison's eyes hardened slightly and Wallace frowned.

"It is quiet clear," Wallace said, "The Dominion hasn't wanted to get entangled with the Borg, and the Borg have no interest in the Dominion."

"Possibly," Tryke said, "But could there be another explanation?"

"Sir?" Wallace asked, frowning in confusion.

"I am not so sure it's a matter of not wanting to get entangled with each other," Tryke said, "I think they are in an alliance."

"An alliance?" the Security Chief balked at the suggestion, "Impossible."

"Not completely," Harrison said slowly, "_Voyager_ is known for having allied itself with the Borg before, when it served both parties interests. And even if we know now that Janeway isn't the real deal, this report came before the arrival of the impostor _Voyager_ crew."

"Not only that," Tryke said, adding more of his thoughts, "But the Dominion didn't push hard to leave Bajor once they had it. Not until Starfleet was tied up fighting the Collective."

"What then?" Wallace asked, "Is this some type of divide and conquer?"

"That's exactly what this is," Tryke said.

The group fell silent. How could they defeat such an alliance? The pieces were too perfect to deny. How would they deal with them?

"And how do we stop this advance?" Wallace asked.

"I have an idea on that," Tryke said, "Alliances such as theirs are tenuous at best. They can easily be destroyed. Like Soviet Russia and Nazi Germany during WWII."

"Oh," Harrison smirked, "I know my history Captain. Nazi Germany attacked Russia before Stalin can turn. But the Borg and the Dominion have been giving each other a wide berth. Do you plan on having the Borg just show up? That would be a mark of a superior and better being to be able to persuade the Borg to attack their allies."

"I have an idea for that as well," Tryke said with a broad and grim smile.

**Act 3**

Miles O'Brian, Instructor of Engineering at Starfleet Academy and head Engineer of McKinley Station stood in front of the Admiralty. He was by nature a good guy, but he could be easily provoked. But not this time. Even as they looked doubtfully at him.

"The things we have learned technologically from this Borg Sphere has advanced our ability to combat the Borg by almost three fold," he replied, a holographic Borg sphere before him, "Not only have we learned much about the working of the Borg vessels, but also many other things. Like how the Borg communicate when their systems aren't fully operational. And let's not forget that we have roughly two hundred drones in Sleep Mode as well. We've learned tons about how their armor and adaptive shielding technology works."

"And yet," Admiral Picard said, "We still haven't learned how to disable the entire Borg grid. I'm sorry, but we need to learn how to sever the link to the Collective at a massive scale. There's still thirty Borg cubes and spheres running around, and soon the second wave will be here. We need that advantage."

"If you give me more time..."

"More time?" Admiral Ross exclaimed in amazement, "The Borg are plundering our systems and the Dominion is wacking the mole with us. Do you really think we have a choice with time? Good Heavens man. The end of the Federation is in sight!"

"All the more reason to let me work with it more," Miles pressed, "We need the knowledge we can glean from it."

"I'm sorry," Picard said, standing up, "But really O'Brian, our time is running out. We'll need to explore new options. And quickly."

"Aye sir," O'Brian said, clenching his rising temper down.

The Admirals departed, leaving him by himself. He leaned forward, letting out a long sigh. For months he had studied and worked closely with the teams as they scavanged the Borg Sphere that had been captured. There needed to be more time to get more benefits out of it. He knew they could use it to help win the war. Wasn't that the whole point of capturing it in the first place during the Battle of Vulcan?

"Chief O'Brian," a voice called over the comm.

"Yes, Lt." he said, standing up straight, "What is it?"

"You have an incoming message."

"Route it here," he said, and he turned to the screen. It turned on showing a Terran Captain with a black glove over his left hand. "This is Chief O'Brian. How can I help you?"

"I am Captain Adam Tryke of the _Kahn Noonien Singh,_" the Captain addressed himself, "I participated in the capture of the Borg Sphere that you are currently studying."

"But the _Kahn Noonien Singh_ did not participate in that action," he reminded him, "The _Invincible_ and the MACOs were."

The Captain smiled amused. "I was on _Invincible'_s senior staff during that action," he explained, "And I was wondering if I could have my Borg Cube back."

"Why?" O'Brian asked, "It's not yours."

"Actually," Tryke held up a finger, "I captured it. It's mine by right of conquest."

O'Brian shrugged. He couldn't argue with that logic. Well, at least it would get something good to do. Using it to do something productive.

"And may I ask what this noble purpose is?" O'Brian asked.

"Can you wipe all prior directives from the ship?" Tryke asked.

O'Brian frowned. "Maybe?" he ventured to guess.

"See that you can and have it sent to Memory Alpha within the week," Tryke said, "That's where we are currently stationed."

O'Brian let out a long breath. Well, that was going to be a challenge. No mistake about that.

"I'll do my best," he said.

"Good," Tryke smiled, "_Kahn Noonien Singh_ out."

* * *

"Mind your own carcass!" snapped Mikdolval, swinging his head towards Lendon, who had bent his head over to see what he had punched in.

"But I saw you doing something on there you shouldn't have," he said, but Mikdolval grabbed his comlink and threw it hard at Jonathon, the sharp edges bouncing off his forehead with enough force to nearly send him sprawling from his seat.

"You insult me, human?" the Tellarite demanded, rising from his seat.

Lendon grabbed his own combadge and threw it at the Tellarite, the piece of metal bouncing off the snout of the Conn officer. Bellowing, the Tellarite threw himself across the small space between the two panels and crashing into Lendon, sent them both sprawling onto the ground. Their fists came as a flurry and Trust jumped forward, along with two of the relief officers from their side stations.

They grabbed the two and pulled them apart, but the two were clutching each other, their writhing and fury keeping them hard to keep apart.

"Stand down!" Trust shouted, only to get a upper back handed fist from Lendon as he raised up to smash down on the smaller Tellarite's snout.

Then, with a pounding thud that shook the group, R'Kar landed between them. He had been behind the Tactical Console behind the Captain's seat and had with one massive leap jumped over the entire bridge and landed in the group. Then, crossing his arms and clenching his fists, he threw them out, the edge of the fists swinging across his body and connecting with the side of Mikdolval and Lendon's head. The two collapsed in unconsciousness.

"Bridge to Doctor McCoy," Stubbs said, having stood in disbelief at the display on his bridge, "Medical teams to the bridge."

"On my way."

"Do you really think he's worthy of bridge duty?" Stubbs said as Trust stumbled back to his seat and collapsed, pinching his nose to stop the blood flow.

* * *

Tryke stepped into the core of the Borg Sphere. Remarkably the sphere had arrived in three days, all ready to go. But, even as he stepped into the core, the core resembling the eaten core of an apple, there were whispers. Every step he took, he could hear the Borg Collective, whispering commands. He had heard them a ton while he had fought them on _Invincible_, but never as strongly here, even in the sleeping den of Borg drones.

_"Please," an Admiral of Species 5618 begged, Drone 7-of-14 of Juncture 5 of Super-Borg Cube 001 bending over him, bone saw cutting through the flesh, muscle and bone. "Don't. We have done nothing to you. We are innocent."_

_"Innocence is irrelevant. You will be adapted to service us."_

His mind flashed back out of the past memory. The sight of the human Admiral undergoing to assimilation he performed on him had always haunted him. No one understood the Borg like he did. Even Jean-Luc Picard did not understand them.

Perfection would never be reached by the Borg. They were searching for something. It was not God, Prophets or the Maker. They were searching for something. Something only the Borg Queen herself knew, and even she did not understand fully the breath and width that the chasm created. But, they had to conquer, assimilating everything to their own will. In the end, total domination of every galaxy was what they sought. Not of this universe, not even of the three closest universes. They wished to transverse time and space, assimilating the past, present, future and every shade of grey they could find.

Even with the setbacks of Humanity and Species 8472 had wrought upon them, their goal was getting closer. They would soon overcome the Federation, and once they did, their greatest rival in this galaxy would be vanquished. And within a century, everything in this galaxy would be conquered.

But not this day. Stepping up to a computer node, Tryke slowly removed his black glove from his right hand. Holding out the wrist, with fist pointed down, like snakes came out his assimilation tubules. They inserted into the node, and a single command passed through the Sphere.

_"Species 9100 will be assimilated."_

* * *

"Do you know why you are in here?"

"Yeah, because that miserable little human was accusing me of doing bad stuff."

Trust rubbed his forehead. Sometimes he really hated the Captain. Why couldn't he come down here and talk to the Tellarite? Oh, that's right. That stupid, rank comes privilege. Well, once he became Captain, he'd be able to do whatever he wanted. He'd send his first officer to take care of such things.

"I took a look at your console," he replied, "You were accessing the _Tellarite Hottest Women Holozine_."

"I no like that type of stuff," Mikdoval sniffed.

"You are a bad liar, even for one of your species," Trust held up a finger to silence him, "And not only were you not doing your job, you also have a bad taste in women! Those b-ches in there weren't even half that good looking."

"Just because you impotent," the Tellarite shot back, "Don't mean I am. I healthy eyes and healthy sex life."

"So you were looking at it then," Trust smirked at the self-incrimination.

"Of course I was!" Mikdoval chortled.

"Just to let you know," Trust said, "you are returning to the science labs. We'll find someone else for Ops."

He pushed off from the wall near the force field of the cell. Turning, he proceeded to stroll out of the brig.

"Commander!" Jonathon called out from another cell, "When do I get to leave?"

Trust glanced at him and thought about it a second. He could be merciful. However, he was in a foul mood. And mercy was not good for today.

"How does 'never' sound?" Trust asked, and left before Lendon could try to plead with him to have mercy.

**Act 4**

The _Excelsior_-class starship dove under the _Prometheus_ center section as the three sectioned ship began to break apart, preparing its attack run. Plasma leaks spewed forth from behind it, its' right warp nacelle ruptured. An _Akira_-class starship swept sideways, dodging the retreating ship, only to be splashed by seven Jem'Hadar attack ships, leading a massive Jem'Hadar Battle Cruiser that was tearing into the dying _Galaxy_-Class cruiser, sections of hull exposed to hard vacuum. The Xindi-insectoid Captain would have hated to be on that ship.

"Three more ships are breaking formation and fleeing the system," the Tactical officer, a Bolian replied.

"That makes twenty in the last hour," the Xindi Reptilian First officer replied with a snarl, "This fleet is losing this fight."

"Impossible!" snapped the Insectoid, his clicking noises that passed as words being translated to the Federation's Common Tongue, Human English, "Admiral Beeotch has ordered we hold this position. Only a coward will scurry away!"

"Is that not what we are doing now?" asked the Human conn-officer, who had just replaced the dead Vulcan Science officer at the Conn.

"We need to repair the damage done to this ship," the Captain replied with a pounding of his fist on his armrest, "We are making a strategic maneuver that will give us a breather in which to start effecting repairs."

"The _Oprah Winfrey_ has just been destroyed," the Tactical officer informed the bridge, naming the Prometheus starship they had just passed.

"How many more ships are there left?" the First officer demanded.

"I'm only counting a dozen friendly ships, and they are falling back to the seventh planet."

The Insectoid shouted a string of curses that did not translate on the universal translator. He swerved in his chair towards the communications officer and barked orders. Still it could not be translated by the Universal translator, and he flinched when the small PADD on the Captain's chair went flying at him. A shudder ran through the ship as a hit struck the aft compartments of the saucer section.

"Sir….." the Tactical officer said in a horse whisper that somehow pierced the ruckus on the bridge.

"What?" the Captain snapped, throwing his multi-direction looking eyes at the Bolian.

"We've got a Borg sphere dropping out of warp speed," he reported, his blue skin going a flush pale blue.

"Onscreen!" he shouted, swerving back at the screen. A massive Borg vessel dropped out of warp, and proceeded to fire. But, not at the Federation ships. All their fire was concentrated at the thirty squadrons of Jem'Hadar ships. Ship after ship exploded, the surprised Jem'Hadar unable to respond in a timely fashion.

"What is going on?" growled the First Officer.

"Not sure," the communications officer replied, "But we are getting a Priority One signal from the sphere."

"Put it on!"

_"-the Tyre system. I repeat. This vessel has been modified for Starfleet services by Captain Adam Tryke. Please do not destroy. If you are receiving this message, the sphere has engaged the Dominion forces in the Tyre system. Please assist. I repeat. This vessel has been modified_-"

"Full speed ahead!" the Captain shouted, jumping to his feet in his excitement, "But keep two phasers trained on the Borg abomination if it suddenly is influenced again by the Borg."

* * *

"Lt. Mulcher reporting as ordered sir."

"Well lieutenant," Stubbs said, looking up from the data PADD he was reading, "We need a new Conn officer. And you seem most qualified. Do you accept?"

The Human female smiled. "I think so sir," she said.

"Then go on out to the bridge and take your station," Joshua ordered and turning on her heel, the young woman left. He waited until she was out of his ready room before he smiled.

* * *

"So I got a chance to read, _Talons of Dawn,_" Trust said, sitting across the mess hall table from R'Kar.

"You did?" the Gorn asked, removing his attention from the bleeding carcass of sheep, "And?"

"Certainly a bloody tale," Trust replied, talking as he ate the mashed potatoes before him, "Everyone dies, except for the hero, Shazan?"

"Ssslazzzen," R'Kar corrected.

"Yes, Slazen," Trust said, "He ended up killing his woman, father, brother and the whole lot. Nothing happy about the whole story."

"The Tragedy of Ssslazzen isss a Gorn ssstory," R'Kar reminded him, "Not a human one."

"Are all your tales like that?" Trust asked.

"Only the epicsss," R'Kar pointed out.

"But there was no moral, just lots of unnecessary bloodshed," the First Officer shook his head.

"That isss the point," the Gorn explained, using his talons to tear into the flesh of his food, "Gorn talesss are about the prowessss of one in battle againsssst overwhelming oddssss. This is conssssidered an epic becaussse of the fact that after he killed all hisss enemiesss at the bridge of Gor'donia, the true villiansss behind the invasssion were membersss of hisss own nessst. He had to faccce them."

"But there is no real victory," the human said, "He loses everyone and everything."

"But not hisss honor," R'Kar explained, "And hisss ssstatusss asss champion went up in the eyesss of the people."

Trust snorted. "I'll stick to human stories than," he said, "Have you read the book I leant you?"

"It did not aroussse me."

"Are you kidding? It's _Vulcan Love Slave Part III – The Lust for Logic_."

**Act 5**

The door chime rang and with a heavy belly, Jamie Gardner managed her way around the pile of clothing and dishes she'd allowed to accumulate and made it to the door. Pushing the door button on the side, it slid open.

"What are you doing here?" Jamie demanded, looking at the slightly taller Sam Mollen who stood outside her door.

He looked around, and then said, "I'd like to talk to you. Can I come in?"

Jamie's eyebrow furrowed as she scowled.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I am an idiot," he said, "That much is obvious. But, if you'll have me, will you take me back?"

Jamie let out a long sigh.

"Come on in."

* * *

Tryke sat on the bridge of the _Kahn Noonien Singh_. He had just received a commendation for the good thinking he had used in employing the Borg Sphere. It had wrecked the Dominion war effort throughout the sector in space and had allowed Starfleet to regather and consolidate their forces in the region.

"Congratulations are in order," Harrison said, sitting in the Ops chair, "Your idea was worthy of a superior mind."

"I'll try to not let it go to my head," Tryke smirked.

"It really was a good idea," Wallace added.

"Thanks, but, it's all in a days work," he said, "Now what is our next assignment?"

"Starfleet has asked us to report to Starbase 197 for new orders," Wallace replied.

"Helm," Tryke ordered, "Set a course to Starbase 197. Warp 8."

* * *

_Three long creatures chuckled as they sat around a massive circle in the floor, the light from the floor illuminating the room, but leaving everything else in darkness._

_"The child upsets the game," the fattest of the group said._

_"The future is changing with the new events," the tallest one said._

_"You forget, Brothers," the shortest one said, his cupped hand rolling around and the sounds of something small and stoney in his hand. "Three things are set in stone."_

_And with a flick of his hands, three dice went flying across the floor._


	7. Episode 7: Battlefront: Andoria

**Episode 7: Battlefront: Andoria**

**Teaser**

_Captain Log: Stardate 65531.9 – I am leaving the Invincible for a couple days to attend a Starfleet Conference on Andoria. Meanwhile, the ship, on combat patrol against Borg forces near Memory Alpha, will be left in the hands of my competent first officer._

"And just where do you think you are heading off to?"

Stubbs turned to see Jemma Grax striding down the corridor towards him. He looked at her with a serious questioning look.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, "I let everyone know I was going to be gone to discuss the current situation with several captains on the war effort. I'll be back within a few days."

"Oh sure," she tisked, stopping infront of him, back straight and chest out, "And leave us in the hands of madmen."

"There's a woman on the bridge," he said, "I am sure she can handle her own. And keep everyone in line."

Jemma grunted. "Fat chance."

Stubbs laughed, "Yeah. At any rate, I must be off."

"Whatever you say," she mockingly sighed, "Have a good time, sir."

"Talking about the woes of fighting both the Borg and the Dominion?" he smirked, "Oh, yes. It'll be a ton of fun."

* * *

"We mustn't allow the enemy to continue maneuvering as they have been!" Captain Dax said, "The Dominion is already begun to raid along the trade routes between Caprica Prime and Trill. We must do something about it."

"And what exactly do you propose we do?" demanded another Captain, a Captain Jomar from near Benzite.

"I have never gotten along with Captain Jomar," another Captain said, "But he asks a valid question. How are we supposed to deploy our strained resources to repel the Dominion? If we leave the Borg infested areas, we'll be handing them a plump target."

"Any number of worlds could be destroyed," a human woman Captain added, "But if we don;'t concentrate upon one threat, we'll be destroyed. Let us not forget the old saying about a war on two fronts."

Captain Dax responded, but Stubbs wasn't paying attention. The cold of this planet was unbearable. It was far too cold, as evidenced by the massive icicle that stood as a massive pillar, touching both floor and ceiling. There was no way to keep his clothes dry. And he was really getting bored of sitting here.

"I'm getting a breath of fresh air," he muttered to the Vulcan beside him, "Tell me if anything interesting happens."

"Of course," the Vulcan inclined his head, and standing up, he headed for the exit tunnel. A human Security officer passed him by, entering as he left. He stopped next to a window carved into the ice walls in the tunnel and leaned against the frame.

Next thing he knew was a massive thunderclap. He turned as the whole room shook, ice crakling and vaporizing from the heat of the explosion. A wave of searing heat blasted into him, raising him into the air and slammed him bodily to the ground.

**Act 1**

Words half-formed were uttered in his mind.

Lights drifted into his vision, and then vanished behind a wall of warm darkness.

The echoes of faces appeared, only to be snatched away.

His eyelids, utterly heavy as if some great weights had been placed inside them, opened ever so slightly. A set of soft blue lights throbbed in and out above his head. He tried to sit up, but he lacked even the smallest part of strength to do so.

Turning his head, he saw an Andorian doctor bent over a computer, muttering to himself. He opened his mouth to speak, and only then did he realize how parched his mouth was.

"Wah-wah-water," he struggled to speak.

The Andorian's antennae bent forward as he turned around to see him. Grabbing an empty glass cup from a small counter, he filled it up with water and stepped forward. He held the cup up to his lips.

"Take small sips," the Doctor instructed, which he obeyed, even though it was difficult. After a couple swallows, his mouth felt a little better.

The Andorian gestured to someone outside of Joshua's field of view and soon, the sound of an ice door opened, scrapping on its hinges. He looked over in the direction, and saw Admiral Picard step up to him.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Like someone hit me with the saucer section of a starship," he grunted, and pushed himself slowly up.

"Glad to hear it," the Admiral said, "What do you remember?"

Stubbs frowned. "The Conference," he said.

"Do you remember leaving the room?"

"Yeah," Stubbs closed his eyes, "Vaguely."

Picard nodded. "You are very lucky," Picard said, "Had you not stepped out when you did, you would be dead."

"There was an explosion," Stubbs said, "That or a dragon suddenly started to breath fire."

"Not an unlikely scenario here on Andoria," the doctor said, forgetting his place, "Snow Drakes are common enough. Dasterdly beasts, should all be exterminated I say."

Picard ignored the comment. "No, it was a bomb."

The implication sunk in, and Stubbs' eyes widened. "What about the rest of the Captains?" he asked.

"All dead," Picard informed him.

"Who killed them, sir?" he asked.

"We aren't quite sure," Picard said, "We have no leads. But, considering all the people mad at us lately, it could be the Dominion, the Cardassians, the Breen. The list goes on and on."

Stubbs sunk back. There had been ten captains besides himself at the Conference. Such a terrorist act would great hinder Starfleet's efforts to fight the war. And the Vulcan had been an Academy graduate that had graduated same year he had. Such a tragedy for a promising man.

"There is no time for grieving," Picard said sternly, "We need to find the people who did this and bring them to justice."

Stubbs nodded, trying to push aside his feelings. "Anything we can do sir," he said.

"Good," Picard nodded. "I want you to choose two of your senior staff to look into this matter. I'm having Starfleet Intelligence look into it as well, but we still haven't found all that the Janeway-doppelganger did. We can't trust it like we used to be able to."

"Don't worry sir," Stubbs vowed, "We'll find these murderers and bring them to justice."

* * *

"Are you sure, Captain?" Trust said, standing in the Ready Room, the line secure.

"I'm positive," Stubbs replied, the steam from each breath billowing around him like a bizarre dragon, "Who do you think would be best suited to this type of job?"

Trust shrugged. "Honestly, sir?"

"Honestly."

"No one," he admitted, "No one has experience in that field of work. Intelligence is a whole other ballpark, Captain."

"Alright," Stubbs said, and Trust could see that he was resigned to that fact, "Who can we spare on the senior staff?"

"Perhaps Jonathon and R'Kar," he said.

"Not R'Kar," Stubbs shook his head, "You need him for fighting the Borg. He's just too effective."

"What about McCoy?" he volunteered.

Trust thought for a second than shook his head. "Nah, you need him in case you have lots of casualties. He's a wizard at medicine."

"What about Grax?" he asked, grasping at straws, "She's a Betazoid."

"I like the suggestion," Stubbs nodded approvingly, "Tell them to depart at once. Transmit their orders only after they've left the ship."

"Sir?" Trust asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Picard said that Starfleet has been too influenced by the Undine Janeway," Stubbs pointed out, "And frankly, I think we can't afford to be anything but too careful."

"Understood," Trust nodded.

* * *

"Forgive me sir," Grax said, confusion being the closest approximation of her current facial expression, "You want me to go on a mission? With Lendon?"

"What's wrong with that?" Lendon asked, looking unhappy at the insinuation of dislike from the Councilor.

"I'm not a field officer," she objected, "And what need will you have for a councilor?"

Trust looked them matter-of-factly and said, "I am not at liberty to discuss at present what the mission is. You will receive your orders after you have left the ship and began to head towards P'Jem at Warp 2."

"But-"

"No!" Trust sternly overrode her objections, "You are a Starfleet officer, Councilor Grax. You and Ensign Lendon will go on this mission. You understand me?"

She was obviously biting back a reply as she nodded. With a wave he dismissed them, and he watched as Ensign Lendon slid his hand and placed it on her shoulder.

"Don't worry, Councilor!" he said brightly, "I'll take good care of you."

Trust could barely hide a snort at her frustrated sigh.

**Act 2**

"Looky, looky," Jonathon said as a written transmission reached the shuttle, "Looks like our orders."

Jemma Grax did not look happy. She sat in the left rear passenger seat, her arms crossed over her stomach. A sour look was on her face. She had been like that the whole time they had been together.

"Councilor?" he prompted.

"I'm not a field officer," she complained, "I'm a councilor. I don't go on missions. I help people prepare mentally for these things."  
Lendon turned towards her and asked, "Is it the fact that you are going on a mission or the fact you are going with me?"

"I don't know what you are talking about," she said, turning away from him.

"I don't remember ever having done anything to you," he said, "Besides hit on you. And that's no crime."

"I don't have a problem with you," she said, looking at the console to her side.

"Bulls-t," he muttered, and she looked up and raised an eyebrow, "You have never really liked me. And frankly I don't care. We have a mission to complete. If not, I'll drop you on the next J Class moon and do this myself."

"Just tell me what the mission is," she snapped, "And let's get over this."

"You'll get no argument from me," Jonathon said, "The sooner I get done, the sooner I can get back to my wife."

He opened up the orders and read them aloud. As they closed, she could barely withstand the amount of sheer surprise that was shouting from him. She held her fingers to her forehead and closed her eyes tightly. Trying to keep the barrier up.

"Well, I'll be," he said, "I've always wanted to be a spy. Something dashing about it. But, what do we first do? I have no idea what needs to be done."

Grax opened her eyes and looking at the orders said, "We can't carry out these orders. Not by ourselves."

"But our orders…"

"Never said we couldn't get help," she interrupted him irritably, "Open a channel on this frequency."

She wrote out the frequency on a PADD and handed it to him. He looked at them and blinked. He had never seen such a frequency before. He looked up at her.

"Who is this to?" he asked, "I've never seen anything like this before."

"Just open the channel," she said.

"Okay," he muttered sarcastically to himself, "Yes ma'am. Shall I lick your boots clean for you too?"

The comm-screen went from the Starfleet normal to one that was….well….Lendon had never seen anything like it before. An explosion of patterns erupted on the screen, along with a series of screeches and pops. Then, the image changed.

The image changed to show a Vulcan face, in what looked like a grimy part of town. While he was looking at the screen, Jonathon couldn't help but think he was just as aware of his surroundings as he was there. And something about this person, even the sight of him made him feel uncomfortable.

"Jemma," he said, his voice calm but a lowered whisper, "What are you doing? This is not the best time to be contacting me?"

"Seran," she said, "You know I'd never call if I didn't need your help. But I do."

He looked around, as if he heard something. He held up his finger to his lips. Lendon saw him set the communicator on the ground (at least the angle suggested such) and he vanished to the side. A few seconds later, a flash of red liquid came flying in spurts and landed on the screen. It took him a second to realize what it was. The Vulcan was back, a dagger in his hand which he was running across his sleeve.

"Meet me at these coordinates," he said, punching in something into the communicator, not bothering to wipe the screen of the blood on it. "I'll be there in two days."

"We'll be there," she said, as Lendon took a look at the coordinates that appeared on the console beside him. The screen went blank, and Lendon couldn't help but notice where the coordinates were.

"This is Pellaga," he said, "One of the main bases of operation for the Orion Syndicate."

"If that is where he wants us to go," she said, heading to her seat, "That's where we'll go."

"I hope you know what we're doing," he said, and inputting the coordinates, the shuttle turned in mid-warp and sped off towards Pellaga, 'The Hive of Scum and Villainy of the Galaxy'.

* * *

Shak'las of the Andorian Imperial Guard stepped up to Captain Stubbs as he moved slowly down the hall. The Imperial Guard was an archaic position that predated the Federation, but with the Andorian's still having a High Command as was customary for Federation worlds to retain their governments even after joining; Andorians who did not wish to join Starfleet could join the Imperial Guard.

"Captain," he called out, reaching his hand up to signal him, "You are needed at the Control Room."

"Why?" he asked, his still weak legs keeping him from moving swiftly.

"Reports state that over a hundred Jem'Hadar ships have broken off of the main fighting near the Tyre sector," he said, moving close to him, lowering his voice to keep the other Guardsmen and Starfleet personnel that moved through the hall to keep from hearing.

"That's a good thing then," he said, looking at the shorter man, "Less pressure on our lines."

"But they didn't pull back towards Bajor," he said ominously, "They've been able to get past them and are heading towards the heart of the Federation."

"There's only three targets worth the trouble," Stubbs said, frowning.

"And one of them is here."

**Act 3**

The stench of heavily crammed sewers filled the noses of the two Starfleet officers as they made their way through the city of Melvagar, a city on the third and easternmost continent of Pellega. Pellega had entered the Federation in the year 2300, and had instantly become overrun with the likes of Grand Boss Hejakar, the fifteenth Grand Boss of the Orion Syndicate, and the last of the Orion Grand Masters. Since that time, the Syndicate had been run by mostly humans, with two Vulcans and two Farians.

And still, for such a prime location for a crime syndicate, why did it have to fit the stereotypical, filthy, trash strewn streets? The peeling pain? The busted out windows? The people scavenging through garbage cans that hadn't been emptied in perhaps months, looking for food?

"Why anyone would come here for profit is beyond me," Jonathon said, a sense of filthiness creeping over him.

Jemma looked back at him as three Orion sex-slaves leaned seductively against a wall.

"Just don't think about it," she said, an old beggar man with hunched-back and long dangles of thick grey hair pushed a small handcart full of garbage through the trash strewn street.

A voice snapped a vulgarity at them, and they turned to see a massively fat human male come charging at them, a massive bludgeon raised up in the air. Jonathon's hand went to his phaser and he reached back to push Jemma behind him. But there was a sound of something flying through the air and the blade sank with a thud into his heart. He collapsed backwards.

"Your stupidity will get you both killed," a calm voice said, and they turned to see Seran walking toward and past them, to the fallen body, "Did you really think you could just come onto Pellega dressed in your uniforms?"

Jonathon passed a glance at Jemma but he kept his hand near his phaser. He didn't like this Vulcan, no matter what he did or said. He was a stranger, and he'd allow no harm to come to Councilor Grax.

"Who is this?" the Vulcan asked, inclining with his head towards Jonathon.

"He's no danger," Jemma answered.

"What does it matter to you?" he asked, "And why do you care what happens to us?"

"It is illogical not to care for she-who-is-my-wife," he said, pulling the blade out of the heart and wiping it on his pant leg, "And I know these parts. You obviously do not. Come with me, or else you will die."

_She-who-is-my-wife?_ Jonathon glanced at Jemma and saw a bright smile play across her face as the Vulcan led them away. Jonathon glanced back and saw beggars crawling out of boxes and holes and alleyways and approached the still lying dead body, a greedy hunger in their eyes.

* * *

Five Borg cubes bore down on the _Invincible_ and the two _Akira_ and one _Prometheus _support vessels. The _Prometheus_ was splitting itself into three different attack vessels, but the Borg cubes were going at such a fast pace, they would never be able to get fully deployed.

"Are phasers and torpedoes charged?" Trust said, a strange calm on him, despite this furious battle about to be joined. Red lights flashed over the bridge.

"Yesss," R'Kar acknowledged.

"At my word," Trust said, standing up and walking to between the Conn and Helm consoles and placing a hand on each, "Commence firing. Send words to the _Microsoft Word_ and the _Open-office_ to prepare to commence Attack Pattern Zeta-5 once we start firing. And the _Avenger _is to target all their fire on one borg cube. Hopefully we can inflict enough damage and slow them down enough help can arrive."

"Ordersss sssent," R'Kar said.

"They're within weaponsss range now," R'Kar said, but just then the first three Borg cuibes speed by at such speed that they rammed the _Akira_ vessels and the _Prometheus_ with such force they shattered against their hulls and continued onwards. The fourth cube passed so swiftly and close that Trust couldn't even give the word to fire before the whole ship was thrown in circles so violently, that there was massive sounds of cracking along the hull.

Trust slammed hard against the wall, and felt something his lower back break. He landed on the floor, and screamed out, "All power to shields! Now!"

"Aye!" R'Kar said, the only person still standing on the bridge. He only was still standing because his claws on foot and hands had shot forth instinctively, driving into the floor and the console, like a cat.

Just then, the fifth Borg cube speed at them and slammed hard into them. The ship flipped upwards and the whole bridge crew was thrown against the ceiling. There was screams and other gunshot sounds of bones breaking. Trust passed out from the pain.

"Engineering!" R'Kar growled, "Get usss interphasssic shielding up now!"

"D-n you!" Sam's voice snapped over the comm, "That's what I'm trying to do! But with all power diverted to shields, it's not easy!"

"Do it, you sssireless hatchling!" R'Kar snapped, "Hull integrity down to 30% and dropping."

A stream of vulgarity came over the conn and then, the Borg cube suddenly pushed through them, continuing on its way. Consoles all over the bridge exploded and the crew tumbled to the front wall, which was now the point of gravity on the ships it now spun mindlessly in space.

* * *

Seran listened as Jemma took the tale, telling him of the goings on at Andoria. His cool eyes never left her face, but Jonathon wasn't quiet sure if he should be relieved or concerned by that. He didn't like this Vulcan, no matter how much she trusted him. And what was this "she-who-is-my-wife" stuff? Jemma wasn't married, at least not as far as he knew. But, if she was married to this Vulcan, she had worse taste than he thought.

They had decided (or more the Vulcan had decided for them) to go talk in a small cantina near the river front area, where the brown filthy water of the River Townsend flowed through, bringing trade to the city Melvagar from the Township of Spieces to the north near the Kreola Mountains and the Seaport of Piktron to the far east. The lower and more disreputable of people visited the bars and inns along this river. This cantina, called the _Winches Lower Regions_, was a cross between a regular bar and a club. Far off in the corner, there was three aliens swaying back and forth, with long almost flute/clarinet/trumpet looking instruments to their lips and sending a lighty tune that did not at all fit with the smoke and haze from cigars, cigarettes, smoke pipes and other narcotics. They were in a corner booth, one that had originally been occupied by Deltians who had vacated their seats as soon as they had seen Seran.

Jemma finished their story and the Vulcan nodded his head, as if he had already connected all the dots. Jonathon nearly jumped as he heard a scream and looking saw a man's throat get cut at a table where the occupants had been playing cards. He felt a strong and irresistable hand grip his head and turn him to face the Vulcan.

"That is the Meltaron Gang," he said in a warning voice, "They own the entire dock regions up to the last sixteen western blocks of the river, where the Nakares own it. You best turn a blind eye if you want to survive."

"Yeah," he said with a roll of his eyes, "As if wearing this ridiculous shirt is any better. I swear it must have been made from a weaving basket."

The Vulcan glared at him, "Don't be a fool Ensign. Don't look, but there is a couple of older women over at the bar. They are the Sterling Triplets. Their dresses are made from the skins of their enemies. And the Bolians near the windows, they actually make their earrings from the cartridges of the noses of fools that cross them. Pellega is not Earth, Mr. Lendon. Remember that."

"And if they are so bad," Jonathon retorted, "Why not clean up this area?"

"The only effective way is to nuke this city," he said, "And believe my, we've been giving serious consideration to that. But believe me, in p[laces like this, it's best just to have an understanding. As long as they keep to their own business, we don't go in. Now back to your question, the organization I work for has already ruled out the possibility of changelings."

Jonathon was still hooked up on the preposterous idea that Starfleet Intelligence would ever consider nuking a city, no matter how wicked it had gotten. But, Jemma was already hanging onto every word he spoke. Another reason he absolutely didn't like this Vulcan.

"How can you be sure?" she asked, "There is nothing that suggests otherwise."

"There is more at work against the Federation at the moment than just the Dominion or the Borg," he pointed out, "For months now, even before the official announcement that the _Voyager_ crew were imposters, we had come into communications with the original _Voyager_."

Jonathon's eyes grew wide. "Really?" he asked, "Then why didn't you move against them?"

"My organization works behind the scenes, gathering the information needed to combat threats to our way of life," he explained, very much annoyance on his face, "It was not in the best interests of the Federation to move against them until the war started."

"And only after millions had died?" Jonathon balked, "A likely story."

"It would take too long to explain to you Human," the Vulcan snapped, "So be silent and listen to me. Anyways, they had transmitted data on Species 8472 and suggested they had infiltrated our government. But, this did not explain why they were all moving so fast and so unified against us. The answers lie somewhere else. Clues have begun to spring up about the identity of these people who hate us so much. Not enough for anything concrete, but we've gotten it down to perhaps a group like the Q Continuum."

The realization hit Jemma harder than Lendon. "The Q?" she asked, "They're omnipotent beings. And your saying perhaps it's a group like them?"

"We are beginning to suspect so," he said, "We don't have anything concrete yet, as I said."

He stopped and looked up and saw an Orion standing behind their table. His look made the two Starfleet officers turn around. The Orion was a massive and large brute, but it seemed all muscle, and not fat. His lower lip was massively pudgy. The tattoo of a pyramid with each point being a star showed on his arm.

"What do you want Godan?" he asked, "I thought we had an understanding?"

"Yes," he growled, "But you have a female. A very beautiful one at that. Looks Betazoid to me."

"She's not for sale," Seran replied.

The Orion smirked. "I'll give you a new proposal," he said, "You let me have some time to have really rough sex with her, and you can have with one of my slave girls."

"No," he said, his hand sliding to the edge of the table.

"How about I just fondle her and I'll let you all walk out alive," Goran said, reaching down and engulfing the Councillors torso with his hands which completely covered her entire torso. He lifted her off the ground and turned to run, laughing out loud.

The commotion drew no attention from the patrons, who knew better than to interfere with anything someone else was doing. Lendon jumped up and swinging his arm back threw a punch. It rolled effortlessly off the Orion's side. The Orion laughed and butt bumped him over the divider into the next booth, where several reptilian Xindi's at once began to pummel him for breaking into their narcotics deal.

Seran jumped over the table, his hand drawing a long dagger. Suddenly two beings appeared out of nowhere and sandwiched him between them. They weren't Orions, but they were the more dangerous Nausicaans, who were almost strength for strength matched for Vulcans. And two was enough to bring him down, his knife clattering on the floor. They picked him up between their hands and threw him at the Sisters, who shrieked and at once went for long knitting hooks that were sharp enough to cut a finger off without so much as an ounce of effort. Individuals at once began to move to make room for the fighters, as Lendon managed to cross his legs around a Xindi and with a twist send him crashing into the backs of the Melatrons.

Just before there could be any further escalation in violance, there was a high pitched whine and with a flash of light, three beings appeared in middle of the room. Two Humans in black leather stood behind the central figure, a balding black-skinned Larian. Everyone at once went to their knees, except from the Orion, Jemma, Seran and Jonathon and the two Nausicaans, which were bound by a force field and parted with a jolt they all could feel. They were on their feet when the force fields went down.

"My, my," the Larian said, looking at each in turn, "What have you all been up to? Disturbing the peace of my bar have you?"

"Stooped Vuucans," one of the Nausicaans said, but he suddenly collapsed as with a blinding light, one of the guards disappeared and then reappeared where he had just been. He was sliding a long dagger back in its sheath. But the Nausicaan's throat was cut as he was gurgling dark blood.

"Let that be the first lesson for you," he said, "Never talk unless asked to by me. For the two Starfleet officers, you don't know me. My name is Hipjarra."

"Should we know that name?" Lendon asked, and the man held up his hand. It must have been a signal, because the guard didn't vanish, and Lendon wasn't dead already.

"I shall let you live a while longer, Mr. Lendon," he said, catching Jonathon by surprise at the knowledge of his name, "But be warned, You shall not speak again unless asked to speak. Or else, you will die. I am the Grand Boss of the Orion Syndicate."

Seran's eyes hardened and Hipjarra turned his attention to the Vulcan and Orion. "What is the cause for this disturbance?" he demanded, "Already two of the gangs are prepared to go to war over this."

"He tried to take the woman and desecrate her," Seran said, "I will not allow him to."

"Allow him?" Hipjarra raised an eyebrow. "You know the laws of the Orion Syndiacte are quiet clear. Every woman and man are open to being sexually used by the Orions. The laws have been set since the dawn of the Syndicate. That is Law Imperative 1. You cannot deny him anything."

"She is my wife!" Seran said, "I will allow her not to touch her, whether I live or die."

Hipjarra frowned and turned to the Orion. "Is this true?" he asked, "Imperative Law 2 states you cannot take the mate of another unless they are not present, deceased or give consent. Is she married to him?"

"Yes!" Jemma said, and Hipjarra held up his hand again in silent signal.

"No!" the Orion bellowed, "It's a lie! He said nothing beforehand. I am within my right!"

Hipjarra stared for a few seconds at Jemma's eye and then he vanished. Next thing, he was standing before the Orion, a long blade cutting through the bottom of the belly of the Orion. He bellowed but couldn't pull back as the Larian stabbed the blade through his foot, reached his hands up inside the torso of the Orion and with a yank, pulled every organ out of his body and onto the floor. The Orion gasped as he fell backwards, drenched in his own gore. He turned to Seran and then backhanded him with his bloodied hand.

"I know you, Seran, son of Tuvok!" he said, "I know who you work for. I have told Section 31 if they ever intruded upon my territory before, there will be consequences. And yet, I know you've been here for many months. Holding secret meetings and murdering those who are in your way. I can approve most of it, but you have already killed three of the upper Kingpins in the city, and now you just forced me to kill Goran, Cugla of the Trebata Clan. I cannot allow you to get away with this."

"You cannot hurt me," he said, glaring at him, "We Vulcans are trained to block most pain."

"Physically yes," he said with a cold calmness, "But you see, your wife here, I wonder if she is worth the trouble that was caused here. I shall take her as my own."

Seran went to grab him, roaring in anger. Lendon jumped forward. Hipjarra held up both hands and touched each man, and they were knocked unconscious by tranquilizers. Next thing they knew, they were waking up in the shuttle, within sight of the USS _Kahn Noonien Singh_.

**Act 4**

"We have a Jem'Hadar fleet bearing down on us," a Vulcan serving in the Control Room of Central Command on Andoria said, "They've dropped out of warp and are advancing to Shran Space Station."

Shak'las of the Imperial Guard and commander of the base looked up from his all-terrain display map, his antanea bending forward. Even during the Dominion War Andoria had never been assaulted. Even when Earth had been hit, Andoria had taken little damage. And now, they'd prove just how superior Andoria was to every other planet in the Federation.

"Power up the planetary defense grid," he ordered, and then turning his head, "Captain Stubbs, will you take control of the space defense of the planet?"

"Of course," he said, stepping over to the Spacial Command console, "I am sending forth the _Melvardo_ and _Keplo_ to help defend the station. It'll take ten minutes for the rest of the fleet to return from the third planet."

"Fine, fine," the Andorian said dismissively, "As long as we get them here. Now, let us see..."

"Holy criptor!" an Andorian exclaimed from the scanning station.

"Watch your language," Shak'las replied, "What is it?"

"Five Borg cubes just dropped out of warp and they are heading straight for the planet!" he replied.

Shak'las' eyes grew wide. Both the Dominion _and_ the Borg were attacking? And this had started as such a nice day. Voices began to chatter over an open fleet comm. And no one seemed happy about this turn of events. Not that he could blame anyone.

"I am sending the ships to engage the Borg," Stubbs said, watching the developing action. "Just focus your batteries on the Dominion fleet."

"Capitol idea, Pink Skin" he replied, although his teeth were clenched at the idea of fighting a battle of two fronts.

* * *

"We've got tons of internal damage," Mollen said, sweat dripping from his forehead as he worked on the plasma conduits. They had cracked during the attack, and he was fighting to keep the conduits from rupturing, "Frankly, Mr. R'Kar, I'm surprised we've managed to escape as much as we have."

"You are currently in command until Commander Trussst getsss back on hisss feet," the Gorn said, "Perhapsss you should delegate thessse tasssksss to sssomeone elssse."

"Impossible," he said, switching out his current tool for a phase coil inducer, "Thirteen of my engineering staff has been carted off to sickbay. I simply do not have the manpower here to just go. How is the Commander anyways?"

"The medical ssstaff hasss alssso become overwhelmed," he responded, "Even with the activation of Emergancccy Medical Hologram, they have only been able to ssstabalizzze him."

"Amazing though," Sam said, "Even a few years ago, breaking one's neck was an automatic death sentence. But using nanites to repair and keep the body alive is truly amazing."

"Perhapsss," the Gorn said, "We currently have twenty-five fatalitiesss and sssixty-three wounded."

"Have to give the ship credit for having taken such a pounding," Mollen agreed.

"And the crew for being ssso ressseliant," R'Kar pointed out.

Mollen nodded. Yes, there was so much work to be done. But luckily they still had roughly one hundred crew members who could still give a hand. It'd lessen the load considerably.

* * *

_"We've lost starboard engines. Can't maneuver."_

_"Our warpcore is offline."_

_"Weapons are having no affect on Borg Cube Three."_

_"Hull breaches on Decks D-E-F and G. Emergency force fields are in place."_

_"We've lost forward shi-"_

_"Ramming speed! Perhaps we can do damage that way."_

The stream of fleet chatter overlapped each other as the ships spoke. Everyone knew the battle was going ill, and out of the ten ships to start this battle, they had already lost four and the only reason the rest hadn't been destroyed immediately was that the Borg seemed more interested in attacking the planet. Stubbs looked at the display and saw the battle was going badly. No other Starfleet ships would arrive for another hour, and that wouldn't be fast enough.

"The fleet isn't able to hold back the three remaining Borg cubes and they are heading straight for the southern continent," the report came through from one of the strategic officers.

"I want the militia in that area ready to go hand to hand if the Borg land," Skah'las ordered, the compound shaking as Jem'Hadar assault ships strafed the surface, a few hits smashing into the shielding around the Command Center. He was sweating profusely as the tense situation threatened to spiral completely out of control. Never before had the Imperial Guard been beaten in the Andorian System, but it seemed a very likely possibility now.

* * *

The city of Telskar was the capitol of Andoria. A place of majesty and might, carved from the very ice formations. During the days of the Andorian Empire, it was said that no day was cold unless Telskar said it. Massive statues of ice and stone lined the streets and the grand Imperial Palace was above the city on a high hill. The Imperial Family had already managed to transport to the second planet and many civilians were streaming for the space docks to find a way off their crumbling world. But, there were few ships remaining that were still functioning and the teleporter stations were being swarmed with people. The city was in ruins, and it was in these ruins the defenders prepared to fight off the invaders.

Jem'Hadar troops transported to the surface, a wave of purple sparkles announcing their arrival. The first wave was hit by an intense crossfire from both militia, civilian volunteers, regular army and Starfleet personnel. But even as dozens of Jem'Hadar fell under fire, collapsing from every type of wound possible, a few managed to push through, firing rapidly and accurately through the defenders ranks. But, even as they ran, the cold ice covered streets caused many to slip and fall. A few even managed to accidentally shoot themselves as they fell.

More Jem'Hadar transported to the surface, but a few transported straight into the icy walls of the buildings and others went straight into formations of hard icicles. Blood gushed all over the place as Jem'Hadar were killed but the survivors pushed on wards. Starfleet and militia backed slowly, firing from icy passageways and around corners. But, many of the civilians got confused, and the cold steel of the Jem'Hadar bayoneted rifles sliced through them, leaving them to die, bleeding profusely on the icy streets, melting it with the warmth of the blood. Jem'Hadar attack ships and bombers swept the skies, bombing the city and killing dozens of civilians caught under the buildings or out in the open. The ever dwindling Imperial Air Force gave chase, but it was hard going. For every three ships they took down, they lost two for the troubles.

The Jem'Hadar were taking the city.

* * *

The doors to the Ready Room opened at the sound of a _woosh_. The trio stepped into the room, the tall black haired British-man holding his hand out towards the captain. The captain looked up, amused by this "posturing" on the part of his First Officer.

"Gentlemen," he said in his baritone voice, "Captain Adam Tryke, lord and master of this vessel."

"Thank you, Commander," Tryke said, "You're dismissed."

Harrison nodded and turning left the room. His arrogant demeanor was off put by a hint of...well...Tryke wasn't sure exactly was up as Harrison glanced at the two men.

"Well gentlemen," Tryke smiled, "Welcome to the _Kahn Noonien Singh._ I've heard tell the crew call it _Kanosi _for short."

"I always thought you'd have ended up in command of _Invincible,_" Jonathon said, looking around at the fairly modest room.

"That was the plan when I was pulled out of that hell-hole of a prison," Tryke said, his smile not faltering, but it became less genuine, "So, ensign, what brings you out here and so far from our old tramping grounds? Missed me already?"

Lendon shrugged. "A little," he admitted, "But I was on Pelegas a couple days ago with Jemma and we met up with this man."

"Pelegas?" Adam said with a little bit of disbelief in his eyes, "What would you be doing there? It's a hive of villainy if there ever was any. The Orions own that planet."

"I know that," Seran said, "No one on this ship knows better than I do. And, we were delivered here by their good graces, as it were."

"And you left Jemma alone there?" Trykes eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"She was taken by the Grand Boss himself," Seran explained and Jonathon threw daggers at him with his eyes. He blamed Seran for losing the Councilor and for what all had happened. He noticed Seran's eyes looking intently at Tryke, but he didn't know why.

Tryke nodded slowly. "So they sent you basically to the nearest Starfleet ship," he muttered, "Curious. But not as curious at the attack going on at Andoria."

Jonathon looked confused. "Attack?" he asked, "What attack?"

"Don't you know about?"

"We've been out of contact for a while," Seran explained, his voice a little disdainful.

"Andoria's been attacked by both the Dominion and the Borg," Tryke said, turning around his computer console to show them. Reports flooded the screen from the battle being fought. And none of it looked good. "All ships have been called to help that can."

"Are you going to?" Jonathon asked, staring at the bad news.

"No," Adam said, "I'll not be going to Andoria's assistance."

"But you are the best combat officer I've ever seen," Jonathon said, looking up at his older friend, "You can do a ton of good! You could-"

"At ease," Tryke said, holding up his hands defensively, "Our ship has been in almost constant combat for over two months now. This attack has finally given us valuable time to do essential repairs. With everyone being called to join the inner defensive fleets, we don't have nearly enough people to keep ahead of the repairs."

"But-"

"No!" Tryke said, "This ship is not ready to go off half-cocked. We must regroup ourselves. Only then can we effectively help repel the Borg and Dominion."

* * *

"We've lost two-thirds of the entire planet," one of the Starfleet aides said, his arm in a makeshift sling made of the sleeves of a recently killed ensign. His console had ruptured, and his report was the last of a constant stream of ever changing status updates on the faltering defenses.

"Get yourself to the medical ward," Shak'las ordered, a series of explosions from the walls causing the lighting to flicker. Small electrical fires were erupting throughout the compound, the building shaking as another explosion rocked it to the very foundation. A dark cloud of cloud filled the hallways as plasma conduits spilled their contents.

"We're running out of men and time," Stubbs said, grabbing a console as the building shook from another nearby explosion, "What are we going to do Commander? Fight to the last man?"

Shak'las stared at the console in front of him, the lights and colors filling his vision. He'd never wanted Andoria to fall. But here it was, falling on his watch. Ten thousand cycles looked down upon him, the Guardsmen of a hundred generations shaking their thin white haired heads. There were sounds of voices as reports kept coming in. The Borg has already assimilated one point three million people and at least two hundred were being assimilated by the minute. Most of the transports had been shot down. The reinforcing Starfleet ships were hindered by the Borg, who kept destroying ship after ship.

"Commander," Stubbs was saying grabbing him by the arm and roughly turning him around, "Commander! What do you intend us to do?"

The Andorian threw him aside, "Don't touch me Pink Skin!"

"We've got to do something," Stubbs said, "And this planet is lost."

The Andorian took a look around, and the entire command staff was looking at him. Waiting for his decision. "This is Commander Shak'las to all Starfleet and allied forces," he said, reaching over and pushing the communications button, "Retreat immediately. Teleport immediately to the Starfleet ships in orbit."

"Beam outs being reported all over the planet," one of the logistical officers replied.

He nodded. "Good, the rest of you get out too," he said, "I don't want anyone left on the surface. That includes you too, Captain."

"I hope you aren't planning anything stupid," Stubbs said, as people began to beam away.

"Get going Pink Skin," he smirked.

As the teleporter took Stubbs away, Commander Shak'las of the Andorian Imperial Guard looked at the console. Pushing a series of buttons, the top opened to reveal a lever in there. Red and black lettering lined the entire box in which the lever was contained. He reached his hand down and grabbed it, feeling the cold steel in his hands. The icy metal froze to his bones and blood began to seep out as the cold cut open his skin.

"_As goes the Guard_," he quipped, "_Goes Andoria. Long live the Empire."_

With that, he pulled the lever.

* * *

From the bridge of the _USS Mongol_ as it backed away from the Borg cube bearing down on it, Stubbs and the bridge crew witnessed what happened. One by one, shock waves spread from at least sixteen points on the side of the planet in view. Then massive orange flashes were seen, replaced by clouds that rose and spread across the surface. One by one, these explosions occurred. Nearly three hundred years prior, Andoria's Twelfth Emperor vowed that no enemy would conquer Andoria and live. So, he had placed over one hundred tactical nukes throughout the planet, accessed at the Command Center. And now, it was a tribute to his genius and Andorian workmanship that they still worked after so long.

"Get us out of here," the Captain of the ship, a Benzite ordered, "Maximum warp. There's nothing for us to do here anymore."

And so, one by one, the twenty surviving ships of the relief force turned around and speed into warp, leaving a dead Andoria behind.

**Act 5**

_Captain's Log - Supplemental: I'm sending Ensign Lendon on his way with the Vulcan. I'm going to miss having him on board._

"I am sure you'll have an interesting report to write," Tryke said, walking between the two men as they headed towards the _Kahn Noonien Singh_'s shuttle bay.

"That I will Captain," Jonathon said, "and I'm sure that Captain Stubbs will enjoy having another Vulcan on-board."

"You are mistaken ensign," Seran replied, "I have my own assignments I need to get back to. I'll just go along to make sure you get back safely."

Jonathon flushed, still not ready to accept this Vulcan as a friend. He'd seen his handiwork. It was anything but comforting. Why would anyone want to trust their lives to someone who could easily stab them in the back?

"The shuttle bay," Tryke said, the doors wooshing open. "This is as far as I go. I need to get back to running my ship."

"It's been fun, Captain," Lendon said, holding out his hand.

"That it has been," Tryke said, gripping his hand in exchange.

The two men let go of each other's hands and moved off in separate directions. Both had seen comrades and friends die by the dozens and despite all the differences, they had that in common. They both understood it might be the last time they ever see each other, but all the same, they were grateful for the time to be together again. As like the old times.

* * *

"Shuttle Alpha Dots is hailing," the Conn officer reported, "They're requesting permission to board."

"Permission granted," Command Trust said, his eyes darting towards the Ready Room, where Captain Stubbs had been locked away since he had first gotten back from the Armageddon at Andoria, "Tell the Councilor and Ensign to report to the bridge immediately."

* * *

"What do you mean she's been captured?" Stubbs demanded, slamming his fist on the table.

"The Orion Syndicate has taken her," Ensign Lendon reported, stiff backed before the captain.

Stubbs rubbed his forehead. First, a good portion of the Captaincy of the Fleet had been killed. And then one of the four founding planets had been attacked and blown up. To top it off, his chief councilor was captured, perhaps never to be seen again. It was days like this he really hated his job.

"Permission to mount a rescue," Lendon requested.

"Denied," Stubbs replied, without a thought to the contrary.

"But Captain," Jonathon exclaimed, "This is Jemma we're talking about! We need to save her!"

"We are at war Ensign," he held up his hand, "We cannot go charging after one single woman, no matter how much we care for her. She'll take care of herself."

"But sir..."

"Dismissed," the Captain said, pointing a finger towards the door. Jonathon hesitated, looking as if he might argue. But, he turned around and left, leaving Stubbs by himself. No, today was not a good day.

* * *

"You're as good as new," Nurse Beltroona had said, the Orion nurse looking with tantalizing affection towards the First Officer, "Unless you have an objection Doctor."

"No," McCoy had replied, busy doing a research project involving rapid cell growth as a way to increase the Human physical recovery time, "He's clear to go."

"Thanks Doc," Trust said, easing himself off the bio-bed. He made his way gingerly to the door to leave the room, and felt her eyes following him. Every fiber in his being screamed at him to throw himself at her, disregarding every Starfleet protocol on the subject of Officer-Subordinate relationships. He exited the room, the door wooshing open before him. He staggered to the turbolift out of sheer exhaustion, taking no notice of the Vulcan on the lift. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes.

* * *

"_Report_."

"I have found a way to get at the target. But it will require action against a Starfleet officer."

"_Proceed_."

* * *

It was never a good thing to be ready to go to bed when the door chime would ring out. Frustration had been Trusts' all week long. He had finally recovered from his injuries, and had been released to his quarters. His infatuation with Nurse Beltroona was driving him mad. To top it off, he was facing the difficult prospect of working with the new Conn Officer, who seemed insistent that she was right on every subject and issue, and everyone else was wrong.

And then there was that d-nable Tryke. How did he get a command before he did? Trust had spent his entire life living his career by the book. He had almost no reprimands on his record, and hadn't done too shabby during his time at the Academy. So why was it, that a convict got a command before a respectable officer got it? It had gnawed like a canker, never letting him rest.

He reached the door and pushing a side button, the door slid open. He opened his mouth to speak when stars exploded in his head from the savage side blow. He reeled back, waving his hands out to catch something to keep himself up. So hard had been the blow, the room was spinning and he saw a dark shape rush towards him. Old reflexes kicked in, and as he hit the table back first, he rolled in such a way to avoid damage. He reached out his hand to grab his comlink, when a well placed kick struck his shoulder blade. He felt the shoulder joint pop out of place and his arm dropped to the floor like a dead weight. He tried to roll away, but a foot slammed down upon the small of his back and his body was momentarily paralyzed. But nothing permanent.

He felt a strong hand roll him over, and unable to fight back, he looked up at the face of his assailant. He couldn't register, as his head was still spinning, but he suddenly felt a hand grab the point between his shoulder and neck and suddenly felt himself slip into unconsciousness.

"My mind, to your mind. Your thoughts, to my thoughts. Our minds are merging, our minds are one."

* * *

"Nothings ever going to be the same anymore," Sam Mollen muttered.

"Huh?" Jamie said, stirring out of the sleep she had been having. She turned her head and saw her lover, father of her growing child, sitting at the edge of the bed, his Starfleet issued briefs the only clothing he was wearing. Even in her drowsy state, she could appreciate the scars that ran across his back from so many busted conduits that even the best Starfleet doctors couldn't completely rid him of them.

"Oh," Sam said, turning back to her, "Sorry to wake you."

"Nothing to apologize for," she said,reaching out with her long fingered hands and rubbed the side of his biceps, "How about you tell me whats on your mind? The sooner you talk, the sooner I can go back to sleep."

Sam stared at the digital projection on the wall, showing the time. 0307 hours. He had always hated this part of night. When regrets and deeper thoughts played across his mind, keeping him awake. It was deadly to ponder too much on mistakes, because it would only serve to hinder personal progress. But, 0307 was still there, waiting for him.

"We grew up in a Federation that had not known war for decades," he said, staring at the red squares that formed the time, "And yet, our son will be born in a time that the Federation is reeling from blow after blow. What will he have to look forward to? Will his entire childhood be swept away by the reconstruction process? Or will he never know what it means to be human? Enslaved to either the Borg or the Dominion. What kind of a life is that for a child."

Jamie yawned. "Too late to be thinking about that," she said, rolling back over into her bed, "Let's talk in the morning."

Sam sat there, shaking his head. Too much was happening that was bad. And now the loss of his friend Jemma Grax, it made the whole galaxy a darker place. He turned around to say something, only to hear Jamie gently snoring in her sleep. He was alone to his thoughts. He sighed and laying down on the bed stared at the ceiling.

"Nothings the same anymore."


	8. Episode 8: The Phobia

**Episode 8: The Phobia**

**Teaser**

"There is no possible way that Brazil will ever beat England in the finals," Lt. Commander Wallace said, glaring at the Helm officer, "England has played a 7-0 season. Brazil has done a 4-3 season."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Brazil team if I were you," the Lt. smirked, "Brazil has a rich Football heritage. They've always proven their superiority."

"Superiority is for men who actually are superior," John Harrison said, sitting in the Captain's chair, "Not some degenerates from the South American Continent,"

"I gotta give it to you Commander," Tryke said as he stepped off the turbolift and onto the bridge, "You have a Pre-Federation mindset when it comes to what's what. I'd say it reeks a bit of the Augments of the old Augment regimes on Earth."

Harrison turned his dark eyes to Tryke as he stepped around the crewmen at the aft stations. "My views are simply those of reality," he said, standing up to allow Tryke his seat, "Nothing more."

"Hm," Tryke hummed to himself, "Ensign, are our scans detecting anything?"

"Not a peep sir," the ensign replied from the Conn station, "Not all day-wait, that's odd."

"What is it?" Tryke asked.

"I'm getting readings of ships approaching from that nebula over there," he said, "Wait...holy s-t! It's the Jem'Hadar."

"Battle-stations!" Tryke snapped, and the whole bridge was lit up by red flashing lights as Red Alert flashed throughout the ship, "Hail the _Spankem_ and the _Tetolar_  
to come to our aid. Raise shields and charge weapons."

"Raising shields."

Six Jem'Hadar attack ships roared through space, charging weapons. The Kahn Noonien Singh turned towards them, power being shunted to the forward shields and the phaser array. Very quickly they were within target range.

"Prepare to fire all forward phasers at my command," Tryke ordered, holding up his gloved hand.

Just then, a massive ball of electricity erupted in the area of space occupied by the Jem'Hadar ships. The ball broke into several sections, each little section causing massive power failures on the enemy vessels. Just then, a ship decloaked and with six well-aimed shots, blew massive holes in the hulls of the enemy ships. Within seconds, all that was left of the enemy fleet was floating ruins.

"What the boner was that?" Wallace asked, her colorful use of metaphors causing a few of the males on the bridge to chuckle.

"Open a -"

"They're hailing us," she said, cutting Tryke off in mid-order.

Tryke frowned. Whoever was out there had just saved them a bunch of trouble.

"On screen," he said, and the screen opened with a male Humanoid Captain on the screen. He looked Terran, only without any imperfections. In fact, he looked absolutely flawless. No skin defects or anything to detract from his beauty.

"This is Captain Tryke the Federation starship_ Kahn Noonien Singh," _Tryke said, "Thanks for the assistance."

"Captain Jemark of the Gent'elia warship _No Tou Fee," _the man said in a surprisingly rich voice, "I am glad we could be of assistance. Especially since it would be difficult for me to talk to you."

Tryke passed a glance with Harrison, gauging his reaction. The arrogant fool actually seemed a bit put out. That more than anything made him smile.

"About what?" he asked.

"An alliance that will save your Federation," Jemark said with a massive smile, flashing perfect teeth.

**Act 1**

"I won't lie Captain," Admiral Necyhev said over the open commchannel, "We need every ally we can get."

"So it's a go then?" Tryke asked, "They've given us an open invitation and coordinates to their home system."

"What do you know about them?" she asked. Tryke knew of her captivity, and she had been a stern woman before-hand. Now, she seemed to be working on zero energy, and the spark of determination in her eyes had dimmed to nothing but a smoldering ember. What had the imposters done to her?

"They call themselves the Gent'eila Triumverate," Tryke said, "They've also got some pretty advanced weaponry and cloaking technology. But beyond that, we have no idea."

"None at all?" she asked.

"No, ma'am," he replied with a shrug.

She nodded her head once. "Very well," she said, "Keep me apprised."

"I'll need to inform Admiral Beeotch we need to go there," he said.

"No," she held up her hand, "I'll take care of it. Just worry about getting us that alliance."

* * *

Ensigns Jonas and Welkerman were from different departments. Jonas was part of the Science Department while Ensign Welkerman was from Engineering. They also were of different races. Henry Jonas was a Terran who had been raised in the Human quarter of Betazed by his adoptive parents. Gila Welkerman was of mixed heritage, Terran by her father, and Trill by her mother. Her spots were not as pronounced as among pure Trills, but she had them still. They had been dating for nine months now, ever since Welkerman had been emergency transferred from the _Saxton _after most of the engineering crew was killed by a pulse of radiation that had infiltrated the shields.

"Well, well," a voice called out as Welkermen was stuck in a Jefferies tube, only her feet sticking out, "I think I see a trap."

"Only trap I see is in your bed Henry," she teased him, working with the hydro-spanner to fix a bent couple of panels.

"What are you doing down there?" he asked, bending down and sticking his head into the access port, looking as his girlfriend was working.

"Power to this deck has been flickering," she responded.

A short paused followed. "And what does those panels have to do with anything?" he asked.

"They're bent in such a way they are touching the energy conduits that run through this Jefferies tube," she explained, "Every jolt they bump it. I'd think you'd know that. You took the cursory course to engineering didn't you?"

Henry placed his hand high on her thigh and said, "I was too busy learning other skills. Like opening _other_ kinds of access ports."

"Like removing your hand from my thigh?" she asked, slapping his hand with her free hand, "Seriously, you are a horny Human aren't you?"

"Only around you," he laughed, "Hey, so have you heard?"

"Heard what?" she asked, as the panel began warping into alignment.

"We're heading for a system to work out an alliance with an uber-advanced race," he replied.

"No," she said, "I've been too busy down here all day."

"Yeah," he said, "There's an open invitation to the surface, or so I've heard from Lt. Barley. You want to go?"

"Sure," she said, the panel making a popping sound as it finished setting. "Sounds like a plan."

* * *

On the screen in front of Tryke was a woman. Golden and blond stands of hair intermixed that reached down to her shoulders. Not a voluptuous bust, but certainly curvy figure. She sat on a chair, her face breaking in a bright smile. He stared at the picture before him, and he sighed.

"Sarah," he said, reaching out his ungloved hand and stroking the face with the back of his fingers, "I wish you were still here. I could use your help now."

The door chimed and Tryke pressed the side of the screen, the picture dropping to be replace by the book he had been reading. _Star Crusades _was the book. It was a sci-fi story.

"En-," he called, looking towards the door as it opened and Harrison stood in the doorway.

"We must speak Captain," he said, entering the room.

"-ter," Tryke said, frowning at the intrusion.

"The Gent'eila Triumvirate will not make a worthy ally in our quest for victory," he said, standing infront of the Captain, towering over him.

"Oh?" Tryke asked, leaning back in his chair, "And you know this…why?"

Harrison turned away from him. "There have been reports about them not being a tolerant society," he said, "In many ways antipathetic of what the Federation stands for."

"Really?" Tryke asked, lacing his fingers together, "What reports have you seen?"

Harrison didn't turn to look at him, but replied, "I have my resources."

_Like what?_ Tryke didn't exactly know if he truly believed that. John Harrison was a confident and an arrogant man. So arrogant he'd believe anything that didn't fit with his views was automatically inferior and not worth his time.

"The Federation wouldn't ally itself with an enemy," Adam said.

"What about the Klingons?" Harrison retorted, "They're an oppressive government that murders its own people."

"Attitudes can change," he said, "I'm proof of that."

"What?" Harrison snorted, "By showing the Klingons how good we are they'll change? We've been allies for nearly eight decades! And they haven't changed and in many cases attacked us. Don't be so naïve, Tryke."

"We are going," Tryke said sternly, "We have our orders. Now back to your post."

Harrison turned to him slightly, and nodded slowly. "I hope you can live with the consequences if they aren't what you want," he said, leaving the room.

* * *

_Disgusting._

That word crossed Lt. Max Chillens mind as he watched Welkerman and Jonas swapping saliva in the back corner of the mess hall. That was always their corner, and between hand touching and kissing, it made him feel disgusting inside to see it.

"Hey Max," a voice said, and he felt a comforting hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see you and handsome Crewman Jacobs taking his usual seat. He glanced at his superior officer (they both were from the Science Department) and noticed the disgusted look.

"What's up?" he asked.

"They're doing it again!" he hissed.

"Who?" Jacobs asked, his webbed hand fluttering as it began to dissolve food through pores in his hand.

"Who do you think?" Max retorted, "Welkerman and Jonas."

"What about them?" Jacobs asked, his pink skin flushing brown as he continually transferred his food into energy through his hand. He took a look back. "They're kissing."

"It's revolting!" he snarled.

"They're in love," the alien rolled his eyes.

"Who cares?" he demanded, "I'm so sick and tired of these…these…_people_ thinking they can shove their feelings in other people's faces."

"Not all of us are as rigid in our sense of privacy," the alien reminded him.

Chillens grunted. "You don't see me shove my homosexuality in their faces. It's a crime against the deities to be heterosexual. The Third Hell is reserved for those who desecrate the bodies of the opposite sex with sexual acts."

"Don't go off on your religious jibber jabber," the crewman sighed, "You're no fun when you are like this."

"Don't expect anything better from me," Chillens responded, looking at the plate of food before him, getting cold fast, "It's another two months before I get to see my husband again."

"How is Vance doing anyways?" Jacobs asked, closing his eyes as the energy that regulated his body was topping off. "Still proclaiming all gays should stick together."

"Something like that," Chillens remarked, "Don't call me that, you bi-sexual wack."

"Good bye," Jacobs said, thoroughly annoyed with his friends attitude. He stood up and left his human friend by himself.

**Act 2**

The Gent'eila Triumvirate was based in a tri-planetary system with a blue dwarf for a star. Usually, this would have been bad, as blue dwarfs were notorious for their radiation which was lethal to all organic matter. But, that was one of the first impressive things the crew of _Kahn Noonien Singh_ was hit with. These people had actually invented a force-field that could actually encompass the entire surface of the sun and while letting the elements of life escape, kept the radiation levels to a bare minimum.

"Impressive," the helm officer breathed out.

"Give us twenty more years and we'll do even more impressive things," Harrison remarked from his seat.

"We are being hailed, sir," Wallace reported her station flashing.

"Onscreen," Tryke said and on screen came the perfect form of his new-found would-be ally.

"Greetings and welcome," Captain Jemark said, holding up three fingers pressed together and his thumb and pinking touching tips, "I am glad you have accepted our invitation."

"My superiors kind of insisted upon my coming here," the Captain shrugged, then with a small smile, "Couldn't be helped."

"Understood," the Gent male said, not catching the humor, "If you'll surrender your navigations to us, we'll guide you to our capitol city on Mal-ana."

Tryke turned to the helm officer. "Surrender the controls, Mr. Chester."

"Surrendering control," the humanoid replied, his gills on his neck pressing as he complied with the order.

* * *

"Welcome and greetings," Jemark said, striding up to Tryke as he finished dematerializing in the habitat ring.

"Long time no see," Tryke replied, surprised as the man gave him a hug which involved three thumbs with curled fists on the lower spine, "Um, what was that?"

"A traditional greeting of closeness," the man said, "And these must be Lieutenant Commander Wallace and your First Officer John Harrison."

"How do you know our names?" Wallace asked suspiciously.

"During our last transmission we accessed your database," he replied, and seeing the alarmed looks on Tryke and Wallace's face held up his hands defensively, "We needed to make sure you were good people. Can't expose our peoples to wicked influences."

"I detected no downloads of our database," Wallace said with a hint of disbelief, "How did you get into it?"

"We've invented technology that allows us to communicate and access the databanks of any ship we contact without detection," Jemark said.

"I'd like to see the technology," Wallace said, to which Harrison nodded his agreement.

"That can be arraigned," he said, "Let me first though introduce my First Officer, Calburn. It's been meaning to meet you."

Standing beside him, unnoticed at first, was a form, masculine in physical aspects, but with two hard lumps on its chest and a slight bulge in its groin area. Tryke couldn't help but stare.

"Are you a hermaphrodite?" Harrison asked.

"Indeed I am," Calburn said, "the Gent'eila have three sexes, all of which by themselves make up a third of the population."

"Come with me Captain," Jemark said, "The Council of Three would like to meet with you and discuss what we are offering."

"Of course," Tryke said, with a flourish of his hand, "Lead the way and we shall follow."

* * *

As they walked through the capitol city Mal-ana, so many things stuck out to them. Many buildings were not settled on the ground, but hovered in the air, by some technology that they couldn't see or discern. Domed parts of the city radiated heat, and this heat pulsed outwards through the city, recharging the energy of the city. Hovercraft flew through the city, as soundless as a whisper of the wind. They passed through parts of the city where stores and shops were opened, including outdoor restaurants. Here, they could see many people having their meals, but the food were small cubes that they ingested through food that through devices on their hands transfigured them into small cubes that they'd swallow whole.

Captain Jemark explained to them the origins of the Gent'eila. According to him, they were products of the Eugenics Wars that had ravaged Earth, but many of the people who had been brought into being through the genetics programs had wanted to escape the violence. So, they had escaped Earth and finding this system after a hundred years of travel, had quickly used their superior minds to create a society in which technology and the perfection of the humanoid form was paramount. They had started off as sixty men and women. They had grown to seventy-five billion people in the span of three centuries. Their unique and superior minds had allowed them to progress at a pace of two decades of progress for every decade that had passed.

He also proceeded to explain how the planets had been named. The original settlers had been from the three human genders. Even the very rare hermaphrodite gender. They had set up colonies on each planet and names them after each gender. Man-mal, It'thing and Wom-ady. They existed in complete respect of everyone and everything.

"You notice something queer, Captain?" Wallace asked after a long period of time as they passed a park. The trees of the park resembled oaks from Earth, but with bluish leaves that changed color due to the emotional state of those that were nearby each individual tree.

"I've noticed it too," he muttered, "There's no interaction between the three genders in a romantic atmosphere. Yes, business like, but every romantic group has been strictly between one gender."

"Ah, yes," Jemark said, suddenly sounding a little hesitant, "The Council of Three will explain everything."

* * *

They had just entered a massive building, with three corners, forming a circular triangle. Six guards were in the room, wearing red helmets, pink body suits and sapphire boots and gloves, bearing discs on the inside of their gloved hands that could only have been a version of the phaser. Forward they walked, up to a set of three chairs, which were pulsating slightly with the heartbeats of the people sitting in the chairs. And, just like with everything else on the planet, the middle was occupied by a male, the right by a female and the left by a hermaphrodite.

The Captain and First Officer bowed slightly, crossing their hands and placing the tips on their shoulders.

"May we present Captain Tryke and his officers," Jemark announced, looking up as he spoke, "They come to begin discussions of an alliance between us."

"Thank you Captain," the male said, "Welcome to the planet Man-mal. I hope your visit has so far been without incident."

"Thank you...Councilor?" Tryke said, unsure of how to address these people. Jemark in all his talk had forgotten to explain how to address the leaders of his government.

"Magistrate is our titles," the female explained, "But your thanks are welcomed, no matter how given. I am Katrala, from the planet Wom-ady."

"I am Magistrate Lef-dana of the planet It'hing," the Hermaphrodite introduced himself.

"And I am Magistrate Zekry of Man-mal," the first Magistrate said with a broad smile.

"My first officer Commander John Harrison and Security Chief Carol Wallace," Tryke introduced his officers, "I've been asked by my superiors to open negotiations with your people until the politicans have a chance to assign someone more fit to negotiations to arrive."

"Excellent!" Zekry clapped his hands together, "Meanwhile, while you are here, let me invite your people to the surface. We do insist though that the go to the medical facilities here though."

"Why?" Harrison asked, suspicion clear in his voice.

"Our medical facilities are..." Katrala said, looking for a word that wouldn't offend, "A bit more advanced then your own. We even have the ability to heal the soul. And I am sure your crew could use some mental and emotional rejuvenation."

"Don't worry, Commander," Tryke said, "I'll go first."

"But..."

"Believe me, Wallace," Tryke said, "I will trust you to save me."

"Very good," Jemark said with a small smile, "You'll not be disappointed."

"Why?" Harrison suddenly asked.

"Why what?" Lef-dana inquired, clearly a little puzzled by the question.

"If you people are so advanced," Harrison asked challenging, "Why do you need us? What could we possible give you?"

Tryke sent him a warning glare, but their hosts laughed simultaneously. It was odd to see heads of state laughing. But in unison? What was so funny?

"You misunderstand our offer," Lef-dana said, wiping at the edge of his mouth with his hand, "We don't _need_ anything from you. Your technology is behind us by at least two hundred years. Your food is full of contaminants and your manpower, while it outstrips ours, is nowhere as perfect as our own, and...to be frank, your really infants compared to us. The Breen, who we trade with, is fifty years advanced then you are."

Tryke looked a bit aback. "Then why offer us an alliance?" he demanded, "If you don't need us, why offer us help?"

"Because the _Galaxy_ needs you," Zekry explained, "We can see timelines, and any timeline where the Federation perishes, the whole galaxy is lost. You are quint essential to fabric of the galaxy. We might not need you now, but in the future, who knows?"

"We are a free trade society too," Katrala added, "And even if we don't _need_ anything, the Tholians in particular like your toys and would pay handsomely for it."

Tryke and his officers remained silent. What a peculiar people. One that has no desire for the help of the Federation, but still offered it freely. That was always suspicious.

"Please return to your ship and let your superiors know everything we've said here," Katrala said.

The three bowed slightly, following the example of Jemark and Calburn and turned to follow them, who offered to escort them out of the city. Just as they reached the door, Zekry called out.

"Wait!" he said, "Before you go, I must stress one thing above all others."

"Yes?" Tryke said, turning to the Magistrate.

"Our entire society is based upon purity," he explained, "And part of that is morality. We expect you to restrain your crews sexual habits while here on the planet."

"Okay," Tryke nodded, "I'll tell them to be mindful."

"No," Zekry shook his head, "You don't understand."

"Understand what?" Tryke asked.

"Our morality carries capitol punishment for both citizen and stranger alike," he explained, "And your morality is less than perfect."

Tryke frowned. "As I said," he said, a little agitated, "I'll order my crew to restrain themselves."

"No," Zekry sighed, "You still don't understand."

"Understand what?" Harrison demanded, snapping out of turn, "Be straight with us."

The three Magistrates passed uneasy glances between each other. Whatever it was, they were almost Vulcanian in their discomfort at the subject. Finally, the Hermaphrodite sighed.

"Our society is completely Homosexual," he said, wringing his hands nervously as he talked about the sensitive subject, "We are completely hetero-phobic. Even the act of holding hands on this Triumverate that isn't in a business or professional type is punishable by death."

"Impossible," Wallace balked, "How do you procreate without some sexual exchange between the sexes?"

"Cloning," Katrala explained, "Everything is done by cloning. We have no male and female sex here. Not even the hermaphrodites would think of having sex outside their own gender. So, please...do _not_ allow your heterosexual crew members to show public displays of affection here on the planet."

Tryke was completely...well...puzzled. A society completely built upon homosexuality? No intercourse between the genders? Even with cloning it was almost impossible for people to resist their urges. With that in mind, he turned and left the grand Council Chambers.

* * *

"That is absolutely ridiculous."

Tryke contained his sigh. Unfortunately for him, Necheyev had handed off the overseeing of this mission to Admiral Beeotch. The Admiral had been broken the news that Tryke was going on a diplomatic assignment, and after ranting and raving about how much he needed Tryke near the Tyre System, he decided to surrender himself to that fact. And he was playing his old ranting self.

"We do not, nor ever will submit to that idea of morality," he replied, "We shed those constraints shortly after the fall of the Augments on Earth. We shall live as we always lived."

"But the Gent'eila have made it quiet clear it is the law," Tryke said, his fist curling in annoyance at this utter stupidity. "They have strict laws against it."

"laws that they cannot force upon outsiders," Beeotch retorted.

"At least give me the go-ahead to let my crew know to keep..."

"No!" Beeotch cut him off, "You will not order your crew to hide their feelings. Beeotch out."

And with that the connection ended. He let out a frustrated growl and turned on his feet. Harrison was sitting there, his face showing no expression as he stared at the Federation emblem that covered the closed screen.

"This is a total disregard of the Prime Directive!" he snapped, pacing back and forth, "We are told as Starfleet officers to respect the other laws and customs of foreign powers. What is he thinking?"

"During wartimes the law falls silent," Harrison replied.

"That's no excuse," Tryke let out angrily, stopping by his desk and leaning heavily on it with his knuckles. "This will start a diplomatic incident we can't possible win without damage coming from it."

Harrison looked at the Captain, feeling the frustration of his Captain. A few seconds of silence passed as he allowed his Captain to think it over.

"Unless he wants there to be violence," Tryke grunted, turning around and sitting himself on the edge of the desk.

"You underestimate what really is going on here," Harrison said, "Beeotch is setting you up."

"For what?" Tryke exclaimed, "To fail?"

"Wasn't Beeotch one of those who gave you the assignment for the Delta Quadrant?" the Britain asked, "Wasn't he the one that was most adamant about you succeeding? And you failed him, staining his reputation. He's out for vengeance, sir."

Tryke looked suspiciously at him, "How do you know that?" he asked dangerously.

"Let's just say-"

"Your 'resources'," Tryke finished for him, "One day, you'll have to let me in on it."

Harrison made no reply. This was really going to turn out bad. Tryke knew it.

**Act 3**

"That really was something," Welkerman said, stretching her arms above her head, "I've never felt so good in years."

"I can believe it," Jonas replied, feeling the old aches in his body finally having been purged.

"I'm no longer sore in my lower back," she replied, "And I've never felt so firm before."

Jonas darted his eyes to her curiously. "_Firm_?" he asked.

"My breasts," she said, "They haven't felt like this since I was a younger woman."

Try as he might, Jonas couldn't keep himself from glancing at her bosom. And...they were a lot more...rounder than usual. He couldn't believe any woman could possibly have a pair as...His hand suddenly leaped to his face and connected with his jaw. _Shut up! _

"What was that about?" the woman asked, dropping her hands to her side.

"Um..." he said, his face turning red.

"Do you have a phaser in your pants?" she asked, her eyes drifting down.

"No!" he said.

"Oh..." she smiled slew-fully, "Happy to see me, are you?"

Raising his two hands, he pounded them against the railing on the bridge. He was so embarrassed he couldn't do anything else. It overlooked a massive lake, where a floating city hovered over the water. A bridge was being constructed towards the southern plains, and it was being shaped (if he could guess correctly) out of crystal that was being formed from the water by massive engines.

"I can't stand it anymore," he said.

"Is it really hurting that bad?" she asked, her grin getting wider, "I could massage..."

"No!" he said, "That's not what I meant."

"Oh," she said, frowning in confusion, "Then what?"

He dropped on both knees and pulling out a small box, opened it. A massive diamond ring caught the suns rays and dazzled in a flash. "Marry me?" he asked. The Trill's eyes opened wide, and she opened her mouth. But, at that moment, a massive shadow fell over them. Looking up, they saw a police vehicle. No matter what culture you were from, they all looked the same. Two holes opened, and with a tug, they were lifted from the ground and sucked into the holes.

They were in a dark room, separated by an invisible wall, that while repelling them from entering the other side, also cast the other occupants invisible. They could hear but not see the other.

"_Citizens of the Federation_," a monotone voice sqwaked at them, "_You are under arrest_."

"For what crime!" Welkerman demanded, "By what right do you hold officers of the Federation of United Planets?"

"_For the breaking of Paragraph 7, Subsection 7 which states that any unnecessary touching of opposite genders is illegal and unlawful_," the voice infomed them, "_Or, in other words, you are arrested for the crime of heterosexuality_."

* * *

Calburn pointed at the schematic he was showing the two. It showed in three dimensional image of one of the triangular ships of the Gent'eila, with two small bulbs jutting from the back. It wrinkled out of eyesight.

"As you can see," he said, tapping a button on the display, "The ships are completely invisible to the naked eye, and to everything except the most advanced scanners."

"Invisibilty cloaks," the Vulcan Chief Engineer said.

"A crude analogy," the hermaphrodite explained.

"How so?" Wallace asked, her arms crossed infront of her.

"That would imply that it is in normal space," he said, pushing up a bunch of data with a flick of his finger, "As with invisibilty cloaks, our Sub-shielding is invisible. But, unlike invisibilty cloaks, our ships actually are out of phase. Not only in normal space, but also in subspace as well."

The Vulcan's eyesbrows shot up in surprise. "A most interesting piece of technology. Can this be adapted to our systems?"

"This child's ship will be hard to work with," Calburn said, then with a glance backpeddled, "I mean-"

"Don't worry," Wallace said, "Inferior race, I'm sure we are."

* * *

"What do you mean they've been arrested?" Tryke demanded, staring at the viewscreen before him.

Before him on the screen was Lef-dana, his darker skin flushing slightely at having to talk about such a subject.

"They were arrested for the crime of heterosexuality which broke the laws of morality," the Magistrate replied, then gently but forcefully added, "Which you agreed to abide by while in our Triumverate."

"I was under orders not to tell my crew," Tryke said, a sense of anger washing over him.

"We know."

"You knew?" Tryke threw his hands up.

Lef-dana shrugged it's wide shoulders. "Your communications are still quite antiquated compared to ours," it explained, "It was more of an open channel to us than a secure channel."

"Then how can you punish them for obeying the orders I was able to give them?" Tryke asked, glaring at him.

"We gave you the choice to obey our laws," the Magistrate said softly, "Listen, Captain. I want this treaty signed. Your Federation is a good lot of people."

Tryke curled his fist a ball and shaking his head gently began to drum on the armrest of his Captain's chair. This would not do. Not at all.

"Will they get a trial?" he asked.

"Of course," Lef-dana nodded, "We can choose a Defense Councilor for them, or you can choose one of your own. But, please, for the sake of our soon to be alliance, please do not have a heterosexual defend them. It will only damage their case in the eyes of our people."

* * *

"Enter," Tryke called out as the door chimed.

In entered Lt. Max Chillens. He looked a little nervous as he entered the Ready Room, the intimidating gaze of Harrison following him. The door closed behind him.

"You summoned me?" he asked, looking at the Captain, who was looking at his console screen.

"Yes I did," Tryke said, looking up from the screen, "I've heard quiet a few good things from your Science Departments comrades. They think very highly of you."

A cautious smile spread across his face. "I do my job," he modestly bragged.

"You also had training as a lawyer?" Tryke asked.

"I did," he nodded, "I spent three years at Harvard College on Earth before I switched over to Starfleet, sir."

"Could you win a case if you were to find yourself being the defense console?"

"Of course, sir," he said, holding his head up high, "Why do you ask?"

"Two of our crew have been apprehended by Gent'eila authorities," he said, "I need you to prove that they are innocent of all wrong doings."

Chillens eyes widened. He had heard of very few incidents where a Federation citizen had been held for trial in a foriegn power. Of course, there were the famous examples. Jonathon Archer being held by the Klingons on trumped up charges of inciting rebellion. James T. Kirk and Leonard McCoy tried in the assassination of Klingon High Chancellor Gorkon. There was even the example of Be'lanna Torres being held by a Delta Quadrant telepathic species for having hostile thoughts.

"Of course sir," he said, holding out his hand to receive the PADD Tryke was handing to him, "May I ask whose the people and what's the crime?"

"Lts. Welkerman and Jonas are being held for being heterosexual in this space," Tryke rolled his eyes, "We must prove that being straight is no crime."

The smile and enthusiasm of Chillens froze and he raised an eyebrow. Really? This was the best news he had heard all day. He pulled his hand back and stood up.

"Captain, I must respectfully refuse the assignment," he said.

Tryke's demenour turned from hopefully to cold. Chillens was nearly knocked back by the sheer change to his Captain. There was no life in his Captain. Only a grim determination. A very cold, unfeeling hostility.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice more drone than humans.

"On the grounds of religious and personal belief," Chillens said, "I cannot defend heterosexuals sir. It would be a condemnation upon me and my family. And besides, I think all straight people should burn for their sexual sins sir."

"That's where they are going," Tryke said slowly, placing his hands on the table and slowly pushing himself up, "They'll be executed to appease a morass sense of morality."

"Good for the Get'eila!" Chillens said, dropping formality as he became defensive, "I grew up in the gay colony of Bandis Umber. We'd stone straight people. And good riddance to them. They are a scourge."

"I am straight," Tryke said, "as is almost every person on this ship. And out of the few people on the ship who aren't straight, you're the only homosexual person. They will not allow us to have anyone else represent them."

"You can't seriously expect me to defend sexual offenders," Chillens said, a horrified look on his face.

"They...aren't...sexual...offenders," he said very slowly. Chillens might have been a tad bit taller than Tryke, but there was such a cold dead hatred that it was making his cower. "They are your comrades. You have served together. You will defend them."

"No!" he shook his head, "I can't! To defend them would require me to divorce my husband. It's part of the Sacred Book of Homo."

"_You will defend them_."

"No," he shook his head.

Tryke lashed out fast, his fist driving into Chillens stomach. Chillens bent over, gasping for air. Tryke spun around him, grabbing the crewman by the hand and twisting behind him, slammed his elbow into the shoulder blade of the taller man. As he dropped to the ground, crying out in pain, Tryke kicked his foot up and connected with his chin. As Chillens head raised up, his head whip-lashed to the side as Tryke round-house kicked him and laid him out flat. He gasped for air, blood trickling down his lip and pain shooting through his body.

"You will defend them," Tryke said, kneeling down by him, "Or I will divorce your arm from your socket."

**Act 4**

"Lts. Welkerman and Jonas," the guard said, "Before you go into the Court Room, we must pat you down."

The room they had just stepped into had flashed a couple times. This was a transfer point between the prison and the courtroom. "Why?" Jonas asked, suspicious of why these males would tell them this.

"Just to make sure you don't have any weapons on hand," came the reply.

Welkerman and Jonas passed glances between themselves. They'd been in prison for two days now. How were they going to have weapons. _No_ was what they were going to say.

"Sure," Welkerman shrugged, much to her own surprise. "Of course."

"Okay," Jonas nodded, also to his own surprise. "Do as much a pat-down as you'd like. Especially on my lady right there. She likes being patted."

The guards moved forward and patted them down. Each pat sent a small jolt of electricity into their bodies. It was a little annoying. But what could they do? Their comrades would be waiting to save them. After a couple seconds, they pulled back.

"Ready to receive your trial?" asked the guard.

"Yes," they nodded.

The room spiraled around them and next thing they knew, they were standing in middle of a massive room, and looming over them was a tri judge panel. Each one of the three judges from the different genders of the Gent'eila Triumverate.

"Welkerman and Jonas," the judges said unanimously, "You are accused of the high crime of heterosexuality. Do you deny it?"

"No," they both said simultaneously. Wait, why weren't they able to say what they had really wanted to? Everything they were saying wasn't supposed to be.

"Will you abide by our punishments?"

_Of course not._ "Yes we will." _That's not what we wanted to say!_

"Then in accordance with the laws of the Triumvate," they proclaimed, "You are sentenced to death."

"Thank you."

* * *

"What do you mean they've already been found guilty?" Tryke demanded, jumping from his seat in complete outrage.

"The trial has already been taken place and the pronouncement was swift in coming," the Magistrate replied. "I'm actually surprised it took that long in coming to a conclusion."

"That's not what I meant," he snapped, pointing an accusing finger at the screen. "You told me we'd be allowed to have an advocate to defend them. But you went ahead without informing us when the trial was."

The Magistrate lifted an eyebrow. "It's not my fault you weren't here," she said defensively. "The trial was held at the time as dictated by law. You should have been responsible enough to be there. But you weren't."

Tryke clenched teeth, trying to maintain his composure. "You must reopen the case," he said, trying desperately to give his officers a chance. "We need a chance to defend them. If given enough time, we could prove the innocence of my officers."

"No," the Magistrate said sharply. "There will be no appeals. No repealing already firm and hardset judgments. The sentence will be carried out immediately."

Tryke spun on his feet and glaring at Wallace, raised a finger and pointed at her.

"Load all torpedoes and aim them at the lower districts of the capitol city," he ordered.

"Captain?"

"Do it!" he barked.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk," the Magistrate clicked her tongue, "You will find you have no weapons."

Tryke snorted. "For all your technonolgy," he retorted, "Federation warriors aren't exactly incapable of defeating a stronger force."  
"Just ask your Chief Tactical Officer."

Tryke turned to her, to see a frustrated look on her face. That was all the answer he needed. He pointed to Wallace and directed with his hands towards the turbolift.

"Turn off that screen!" he snapped, but it remained on. And he walked into the turbolift, which did not open. He glared back at the screen.

"Engineering," he called over the intercom. There was no answer. "Engineering, respond!"

"You ship is trapped by our technology," the Magistrate repled. "There will be no attempts to free the prisoners. Their fate is sealed."

* * *

"There must be some way out of this predicament!" Tryke said, slamming a fist against the turbolift door. It didn't bend to his will.

"We can't hail any part of the ship," Wallace replied, frustration in her voice. "The entire console is frozen."

There was a yelp from the access panel to the Jeffry Tube.

"I'm afraid that way is blocked to us too," Harrison said, rubbing a burned hand.

"Get me some options people!" Tryke demanded.

* * *

Welkerman and Jonas were led into a small white room. The lighting of the room (which was from the walls themselves) throbbed bright and dim. Bright and dim.

Henry Jonas looked over at the small sled that hovered in the air as he was being pushed on a similar bed to the center of the room. No one had come for them, and the last time he had seen his beloved was back in the court chamber.

"Gila," he called out, "Gila!"

There was a muffled reply. Distorted as if by malfunctioning filters. But, he at least recognized it was her. Even as badly jarbled as it was, he knew she was on the bed.

"Henry!" Gila called from her own bed, staring at the empty bed beside her, "I know you are there. Please, speak to me!"

"If you can hear me," Jonas said, "I just want you to know-"

"The answer is yes. I will marry you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

A medical droid hovered over Jonas and began beeping. It slowly passed over his body, starting above the feet and moving upwards. Organ after organ shut down, and he could feel himself dying. Every organ was failing. As the droid passed above his eyes and they suddenly darkened, he could feel the love for her….dying.

**Act 5**

A small shuttle-craft, looking much like a drop of water, slid through space. It's journey was not far, and soon, the shuttle-bay doors to the Nebula-class Federation starship was opening. Not by the input commands of the crew aboard. But by the wishes of the occupant on the ship. As the shuttle glided in, and compacted to fit between the two box-shaped run-abouts, the crewmen looked in astonishment as the side opened and the hermaphrodite stepped out onto the deck, a man and a woman following him.

* * *

Tryke sat, legs crossed. Candles were lit and he allowed his mind to be taken in by the flame. It was an old Vulcan meditation technique that Merlek had taught him back in the days before the doomed mission that had changed everything. Before he was imprisoned.

His door chimed. He looked up annoyed that he was being interrupted.

"What?" he demanded.

"It's Ensign Trey of Gamma Shift," the voice of the young Trill announced.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

"Magistrate Laf-dana has arrived and wishes to speak to you immediately."

The Magistrate was one of the last people Tryke wanted to talk to. He had talked with Admiral Beeotch about what had happened, and while the man fumed and ranted about 'ingrateful superior nincompoops' had been ordered by Starfleet Command to get the treaty ratified. And so, the treaty had been concluded, and he was all but eager to leave the Triumverate in the space dust.

"Tell him I'll meet him in the briefing room," he said, but the door opened and the put-out Ensign couldn't stop the magistrate from entering. A wave of his hand closed the door behind him.

"We are sorry for the rift between our two peoples that now occur," Lef-dana said, jumping to the point, "And I'm sorry you do not see our course as wise."

"There's no wisdom in punishment without knowledge of the laws in place," Tryke said, pushing himself up slowly from the ground. "It's barbaric."

The darker-skinned man sighed. "The purity of our people, thought as in deed had to be protected," he explained, "And even your superiors agreed to this alliance. Despite all that."

"Yeah," Tryke muttered, stepping over to the replicator, "Hot chocolate, whip-cream, caramel and chocolate drizzle."

"I'm sorry you feel that way," Lef'dana said, "Jemark speaks highly of you. We could still be friends."

"I can't be friends with a race that kills my officers," he said, lifting the paper cup out of the replicator and drinking slow sips from it.

"Kill?" Lef'dana asked, frowning.

"Yes," Tryke said, growing angry, "It's a shame that such an advanced race kills people with capitol punishment."

"We executed them," the Magistrate replied, "Never killed them."

Tryke frowned in confusion. What was this fool talking about? "I don't understand," he said finally, "Executing is killing. That is what every culture calls it. No matter how advanced one is."

Lef'dana's eyes grew wide suddenly. "Oh. Oh dear. Oh dear. By all the Genitals, we are having a misunderstanding." And with that, he started to burst out laughing.

"What misunderstanding?" Tryke asked, lost at what was so funny about murdering innocent people.

"Our executions do not involving the taking of life," he said, wiping the saliva that had dribbled from his mouth, "We've moved past such things."  
Tryke's eyes grew wide. "They don't? What do they involve then?"

"Reprogramming."

* * *

Gila Welkerman and Henry Jonas walked apart from each other as the time came for them to depart. A simple nod was all that passed. There was no acknowledgment of the other. They had an immense feeling of sadness. How could they have ever desecrated another genders body like they had?

* * *

Max Chillens sat with puffy eyes. He had just called out his marriage with his husband. That was as the Holy Text laid out for those who attempted, even in thought to defend the moral and sexual sinners. What a cruel life and Deity to demand such a sacrifice!

The doors to the mess hall opened and a set of footsteps walked up to him. He looked up, and saw someone he never suspected to see again.

"Lt. Jonas," he said, pointing to a seat, "Are you not dead?"

"No," Jonas said, sitting down, "But they helped me see the truth."

"Oh?" he asked, taken a little off guard, "What truth?"

"That what I lived my life before was wrong," he said, "How could I defile her like that?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, not sure what was going on. "Are you alright?"

"Everything is alright," Jonas said, smiling shyly, like a school-girl with a crush, "I've shed heterosexuality. I now realize men are only meant for men. And I realize I am in love."

"Oh yeah?" Chillens asked, rubbing his eyes, "With who?"

"I love you, Max," Jonas said, holding his hand, "And I never wanted to be parted from you."

Chillens was flabbergasted, but at once sent a thanks to the Deity. He had followed the precepts of his religion, given the penance that the Diety had demanded, and he had been rewarded. With the most handsome lover a guy could ever want.


	9. Episode 9: The Return

**Episode 9: The Return**

**Teaser**

"You are confusing a strategic withdrawal from war with cowardice," the Romulan snapped, eyeing his companion with daggers in his eyes, "The war wouldn't have continue our way. Not with Romulas gone."

"You didn't even try," the Senator retorted with an accusatory tone, "And now we are forced to endure a ridicolous length of time rebuilding. Lowering the taxes on the Klingons now part of the Empire. Things like that are the realm of politicians, not soldiers. Imperator."

"I'm more than willing to let the Senate take over the roll of running the government," Stulon, Imperator of all Romulan Military Forces replied.

"And when will that be?" the Senator demanded.

"When they actually decide to do anything besides bicker about diving up the remaining choice lands," Stulon said, walking out of his villa and into the indoor greenhouse. He had carefully cultivated the greenhouse and garden within to perfection. Had he not been appointed to the military at the age of seven, he would have become a gardener. Not as messy as war.

The senator was about to respond, when a Bolian servant stepped through the door, the Chairman of the Senate following him. The Chairman was a veteran of fifty years in the political circles, and only the Chairman of the Tal'Shair riavled his place in the hierarchy of the Empire. Only the Praetor was higher, and he only topped by the Emperor.

"May I present Chairman Zellgo," the Bolian said, bowing slightly and backing away.

"I can see the two of you haven't been having a good visit," the old and ample large Romulan chortled upon looking at their faces. "Perhaps I can liven things up."

"Is that so?" the senator glared at Stulon, who was using a finger to prod through a small Akralian Water Bulb, which grew in swampy waters.

"Imperator Stulon," the Chairman said with a broad smile, "By the power of the Romulan People, the Senate has declared you to be Emperor."

Stulon froze in place and the Senator seemed to have a heart attack. He looked up, blinking a few times. That couldn't possible be true. He had no skill with politics.

"You can't be serious," he said, but the Chairman nodded.

"Oh I'm most serious," he said, reaching out a hand. "Let me be the first to congratulate you. You have done wonders for our peopl-"

The Chairman gasped as a phaser blast of yellow energy sliced through to him, striking him in the chest. Stulon at once reacted, calling for his guards. There was another zap, and he turned, seeing the Senator flailing as he dropped to the ground, fire still burning from a dead-center chest wound. There was the flash of a teleporter, and a black armored figure stepped out, raising an arm phaser and firing a stream that cut through the flying Bolians back, making him fall and plow into the ground. There was more transporter activity, and fire could be heard. Stulon went for his own phaser, the attacker turned away from him.

But he felt his eyes burst in stars as something heavy hit him. As he fell to the ground, he still could seee, even if it was getting blurry. Past his body walked a avergae height woman, with shoulder length blond and golden hair flowing to her shoulders.

"Agent Spad Queen to Home Star Runner," she said, her voice clearly human accented, "Mission complete."

"Is the Future King still alive?" Romulan ears were finer at hearing than most species of the Alpha Quadrant.

"Yes."

"Leave him. He'll serve our purposes well."

Although barely concious, he slowly pulled out his disruptor pistol he always kept on hand and slowly drew it forward, hoping to catch the attackers in the back. But, before he could fire, the attackers vanished. And he knew no more.

**Act 1**

The Dominion troops swarmed the corridor, combined fire from three teams of security trying to pin them down. A Jem'Hadar tossed a plasma grenade, and several security personnel ran right into the grenade, wiping out roughly a third of the security.

The surviving security, disorganized by such a severe blow, tried to fall back, but accurate fire soon cut down all but three men. These men, a Bolian and two humans, were pinned down near the turbolift. The Bolian reached up his hand to push the button, but his hand received a direct hit. As he staggered from the hit, two more shots hit him.

"You take the right side!" the younger of the two men shouted, "I'm going to wide beam the left."

"You idiot!" the older human said, standing up and firing a series of quick phaser blasts, taking out a Jem'Hadar that was running towards them, "I've got this!"

With that, he charged down the hall, only to be cut down but a dozen shots. The lone survivor, panicked, leapt up to grab that elusive turbolift panel, and received a shot to the back of the head.

"Computer, end program!"

The entire corridor vanished into the overlapping shapes of the holodeck. Standing in a corner, with arms crossed, was Commander Wallace.

"That was the sloppiest piece of defensive work I have ever seen!" she snapped, her usually fair complexion reddining as she was furious, "Running into grenades as they were thrown? A complete retreat? Running towards heavy enemy forces? Arguing about the best course of action? Surely you are all smarter then that?"

The smarting and humiliated Gamma Security Team slowly pushed themselves up from the floor. They weren't exactly in a position to argue the point with her.

"We are going to run this drill tomorrow and the next day and the next," she growled, "Until you actually can perform with any decency!"

"Bridge to Wallace."

She sighed and pushed her commbadge. "Wallace here."

"Report to the bridge."

She nodded her head. "Understood." With that, she turned on her heel and stormed from the room.

* * *

"I wouldn't be coming to you, Adam if there was any other way," Admiral Beeotch said, moving his massive girth to the chair opposite the Captain's desk.

"Oh course," Tryke nodded, "I'll do whatever I can."

"Two weeks ago we got a report from one of our intellegence operatives on Horatius that Imperator Stulon was attacked, along with a senator and the Chairman of the Romulan Senate while they were visiting Stulon and killed everyone except Stulon, who the report says he was saying that he had been left alive," the Admiral said, "We thought it was an isolated incident. With the powers currently gripped in a life or death struggle in this region of space, incidents like this were to occur."

Tryke noticed the use of the word, 'thought'. "Other incidents have occured?" he asked.

"Our operative in Gorn space has recieved a call from the Emperor's entire court being killed, except for him," he said, brining up a PADD and pictures of the crimes, "And in Tholian Space, the Headmistress' personal shuttle was attacked, and the boarders left only her alive, but barely. The Cardassians, still tettering on the issue of joing the Federation or not, had an incident where an entire assembly, except for the Legate was killed. We need to track down this assassin and put an end to them."

"I agree," Tryke said, surprised by the sheer violence being involved, and how they all seemed to have corresponding features, "But how am I to help you? I'm not an intellegence agent."

"True," Beeotch said, pushing a few buttons, "But, not only were the political leaders not killed, but our agents have found a message at each site. They were encoded to a frequency very rare but one of our own. I think this will answer your question."

"If you are hearing this, Captain, it's because you are sitting infront of someone who knows how to decode it. Think I was a witch before? This time, you'll have to kill me. Find me where it all ended. I dare you Adam."

Tryke blinked at the message, not beliving what he was hearing. "Is that..." he took a slow breath, "...is that who I think it is?"

"I'm afraid it is," Beeotch said, "We've been able to verify the voice. It's not a recording and it's not fake. It's..."

"Sarah King," Tryke finished.

"Harrison."

The Captain's voice came through the shower as the tall Briton was assaulted on all sides by sonic waves, cleaning the crime off his body to the bones. He looked up, removing himself from the daydream he was having.

"Yes, Captain?" he asked.

"I need you to report to shuttle bay one," Trykes voice issued the order.

"On my way," Harrison replied, turning off the sonic shower with a wave of his hand.

* * *

He rounded a corner, to see Commander Wallace talking to Tryke. As he approached, Wallace turned and left, stopping just long enough to kiss him on the cheek. Harrison nodded.

"Let's get a bit more intense tonight," he said, slapping her on the butt as he continued walking towards Tryke. "What do you need, Captain?"

"We're going on an away mission," Tryke said, pointing at the shuttle in the bay with the doors already open.

"Where?" he asked.

Tryke said nothing, but he walked off towards the shuttle bay. Harrison, surprised by the lack of a response, followed him.

* * *

The two of them sat in the cockpit as the shuttle speed through space at Warp 6. Harrison sat with arms crossed, noting the determined look on the Captain's face. At long last, he decided he had enough waiting.

"Finally decided to kill me?" he asked with a smug smile.

"Believe me, Commander," Tryke said, pushing the button to initiate auto-pilot, "When I kill you, you'll know."

"That's reassuring," the dark commander scoffed.

"I know you are a resourceful man," Tryke said, leaning back nonchalantly, pulling the phaser he had and placing it on the console.

Harrison raised an eyebrow, "Obviously," he replied, "Although what that has to do with what we are doing and going is beyond me."

"How much do you know about my mission to the Delta Quadrant?" Tryke asked, his eyes turning dead and cold. Harrison had only seen that look in cold killers, and for once he was feeling….concerned.

"The one you were sent to prison afterwards for?" Harrison asked.

Tryke did not nod. But that was indication that _that_ it was what he was asking about. Harrison knew he would have to tread very carefully.

"Officially or unofficially?"

"Your choice."

"Officially I know nothing. Unofficially, I know what the parameters for your mission were. I know the event that turned your officers on you. And I know that it was such a failure that the Admiralty shuffled all responsibility onto you, covering their own butts. But, as for specifics, what happened besides that, no."

Tryke measured him up with his eyes. Harrison wondered what way this would turn. After a few moments of tense silence, he leaned forward.

"One of the officers from my original crew has been found alive and well," he said, "She's been assassinating high rank officials all across this part of space. And she keeps taunting me to come find her."

"Ah yes," Harrison nodded, "Sarah King. She's been undercover for a secret part of Starfleet Intelligence for the past couple of months."

"Section 31?" Tryke asked to which Harrison was indeed surprised.

"How would you know about them?" he asked.

"How do you know about them?" Tryke countered.

The sat there for a few seconds, eyeing each other. Then, they both nodded. Somethings were better left unsaid.

"The mission is simple," Tryke said, "We are to find and eliminate her from being a threat."

"Alive or dead?" Harrison asked.

Tryke tapped his armrest. "Alive if at all possible," he said.

Harrison looked over at him. His keen sense of sight revealed much to him. Tryke had feelings; deep feeling for this person. He smiled inwardly to himself. At last, a kink in his armor.

"I need you to contact a few of your resources and discover what you can about her last whereabouts," Tryke said, watching him closely, "I will not get us killed in an ambush."

"Of course," Harrison said, standing and leaving the cockpit. Tryke's eyes followed him out.

**Act 2**

"I really don't care how many refugees we can save!" Stubbs shouted at the politicians on the screen, "I am part of a battle-group that is doing all it can to stop the last dozen Borg cubes running rampant through our space. Don't like it? F-k you!"

The screen shut off and Trust looked amused at Stubbs as he slumped into his chair. With the fall of Andoria, the whole Federation was panicking. Even the thwarted attack on Vulcan had not caused such an increase in panic.

"At times I wish I had the authority to nuke the whole Federation Council," Stubbs muttered, "Even if it means the end of my career."

"I think you are already well on your way to ending it sir," Trust laughed.

Stubbs sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Stubbs to Engineering."

"Yeah Captain?" his Texas Chief Engineer asked.

"Sam, have you found a way to recharge those plasma conduits at a faster rate?" he asked, "We really need to get the efficiency up."

"Sorry, Captain. But I'm more worried about the phase cloak. It's been acting up again. We really can't afford another mishap like back in the Neutral Zone."

"D-n," Stubbs groaned, resting his head against the headrest, "Anything else going wrong?"

"Well..."

"On second thought," he shook his head, "Don't tell me."

"Alright sir. Engineering out."

"Captain Ssstubbsss?"

"Yes, Mr. R'Kar," he rolled his eyes, "What is it?"

"You have an incoming messsssage."

"Reroute it to the briefing room," he ordered. He looked over at Trust. "This better not be another bean counter."

Trust snorted as the screen flashed on. However, who stood there was not any bean counter. Her eyes were puffy red and her hair, usually nicely done, was in tangled knots.

"What is it Veronica?" Stubbs asked.

"Zake and David were hit by a car last night," she managed, taking deep breaths to try to talk.

The world seemed to stop and he felt his heart skip a beat. His twin sons? They were hurt? Why? What? "Are...are they all right?" he asked, not sure if he could trust himself.

"They-they-they aren't expected to li-live more than a-," Veronica began to sob, hiding her face in her hands. "a d-day."

"The ship is in your care!" Stubbs shouted, dashing down the corridor towards the transporter room. The Prometheus-Class Thor's Hammer was on it's way towards Earth to make repairs, and with Invincible being unable to be spared to return home, they had agreed to take him along.

"Of-of-course," Trust called out, trying to keep up with his spry commander, "She'll be in one peace when you come back."

The transporter room door opened and Stubbs bounded towards the transporter pad. The transporter engineer had been knelt over an open panel and didn't have time to notice before the Captain ordered, "Beam me to the Thor's Hammer now!"

"Yes sir!" the crewman said, jumping up to beam the Captain over. As soon as he was gone, beamed over by a stream of blue energy, Trust nodded to the crewman.

"McCoy to Trust," the doctor called over the comm system.

"Yes doctor?" he asked.

"Can you come to Sickbay?" the Doctor asked, "I need you to see something."

"Alright," Trust said, "On my way."

He stepped outside of the door and into the corridor. But, as soon as the door closed, a white light filled his mind. He stood erect for a couple seconds, as his entire mind seemed to be fried, scrambled and reorganized. A couple seconds later, the light left him and he turned and headed towards the bridge instead.

"Helm!" Trust said, stepping on the bridge, "Set coordinates for Sector 110 by 9.0. Engage at Warp 9."

Jonathon acknowledged and input the coordinates. "Coordinates input."

"Engage, Mr. Lendon." he said.

The _Invincible_ turned away from the battle-group and shot off, leaving the five other ships hailing after it, trying to figure out why it was leaving.

* * *

"This is the First Officer and Acting Captain," Trust said over the ships intercom system. "We have just received orders of a ship that has been taken over by Species 8472. Our mission is simple. Find and destroy it before it has a chance to influence ships in the Federation to act against the interests of the Alpha Quadrant. Thank you and that is all."

Jonathon whistled low. "Sounds like some serious crap, Commander," he mentioned.

"Indeed Mr. Lendon," Trust said, "It is. I need you to meet with Sam. He's going to meet with you in Holodeck 3."

"Really?" Jonathon asked, "Why?"

"He needs your help coming up with a solution to our phase cloaking problem," Trust said.

"I'm no engineer sir," Jonathon protested, but the First Officer glared at him from the Captain's Chair.

"Do not mistake it as a suggestion, Mr. Lendon," Trust said.

Jonathon nodded and rose from his chair. He was heading towards the door when he heard Trust say, "You too R'Kar."

"Aye sssir," the Gorn said, turning and following Jonathon into the turbolift.

"Ah!" Sam said, calling out from the holographic Saturn Station set he was standing by, looking at some holographic data. "Come in! So, you are going to help me?"

"So the Commander says," Jonathon said, and the Gorn nodded his head, "So, what would you like?"

"Well-

" Sam began, when suddenly the holographic chamber suddenly changed, and the three men found themselves flung to different walls and chains strapping hold of them. R'Kar bellowed and tried to break free, but to no avail. Jonathon felt his chest compressed tightly and he was having a hard time breath.

"What the h-l?" Sam shouted, "Computer! End program. Computer? COMPUTER!"

**Act 3**

The planet of Harven-Loos wasn't a member of the Federation, even if it did exist near Betazed. It had all but been ignored by the Borg invasion, which was set on wiping on humanity and it's allies. One of the reasons for this was the native populace of the planet itself had only just begun to reach warp status, while most of the warp-speed capable vessels came from the Romulan Star Empire, the old Klingon Empire and the Federation.

The populace had benefited greatly from these visitors, and had actually rented out regions for use by the governments. It was a planet of true galactic peace, with the main administrator of the seven colonies that had been set aside on the southern continent being a telepathic Beltarken. They had the ability not only to read minds but control them to and had lives over two hundred years.

The colony of Venus had over three thousand full time citizens and the current form of money was Romulan credits. The city of Augustus was the capitol city with 1,500 people living there. The city had seen better days, and despite being the capitol, it had fallen into a state of semi-disrepair due to the irresponsibility on part of the Governor Jerk'off. Down one of the streets walked two men, wearing garb of Starfleet. This was one planet outside Federation control that a Starfleet officer could walk openly.

They headed towards a club, which had doors open and flashing lights of silver and gold could be seen throbbing alternately with Romulan Pop music playing. The closest thing that came to mind of Tryke was a combination of Human Pop and Vulcan Opera. Not the most harmonious companionship of the music art.

"Are you sure he's going to be in here?" he asked, slowing at the sight of the club, two Romulan musclemen at the door.

"That's what my contact says," Harrison replied, slowing slightly in response to his superior slowing.

"Do you trust him?" he asked.

Harrison didn't respond but resumed his speed towards the club. Tryke rolled his eyes and muttering under his breath "Guess so," he followed him in. He was assaulted upon entering by the music, which increased to an almost deafening roar. There must have been two hundred people crammed in the place, and little archways could be seen through the crowd that led to private rooms and other hallways that led to other rooms of the club. Heavy smoke which combined alcoholic and narcotic smells all but deadened his sense of smell. He followed the tall Englishman as he pushed to a back room whose door slid open.

Sitting at a far table, a deck of cards in his hands, was a translucent skulled Gallomite. A Ferengi, Trill and Bajoran woman sat around the table, looking at the cards in their hands. They stopped and turned to look at the two intruders.

"May I help you gentleke-men?" the Gallomite asked, his throat seeming to bubble as he spoke.

"I hear you have information," Harrison said, moving behind the Bajoran woman.

"Depends," the Gallomite snorted.

"On what?" Harrison asked.

"What you'll offer in return," he said, tapping the edges of his cards against the tabletop.

"How about this," Tryke said, stepping up and interrupting his First Officer before he could speak, "You tell me what I want to know and I won't kill you all right now."

The group chuckled. They were not afraid of these Starfleet officer. Starfleet officers did not randomly kill people.

"Doubt my sincerity?" Tryke said, and with a punch faster than anyone could have reacted, he connected at the lower back of the Bajoran woman's skull, where it was softest. She gasped as blood ruptured from the back of her head. The Trill grabbed his phaser but hadn't drawn it half out when Tryke side chopped with his hands and hit the Trill so hard on the neck it cracked. The Ferengi drew a long wavy bladed knife and raised to strike. But Tryke flew across the table and spun the Ferengi around, grabbing his knife hand and yanking it backwards made the Ferengi stab himself in the back.

The Gallomite rose to flee, but Tryke slammed into him and pinned him against the wall with his forearm. He lifted his gloved right hand and pulling it off, raised his wrist and tubules shot forth and injected into the Gallomites neck. As he screamed in pain Tryke pushed harder.

"These nanoprobes will detonate you body in one minute," he whispered with a growl, "Where is Sarah King?"

"I-I-" the Gallomite pleaded.

"Captain?" Harrison asked, surprised by the sheer brutality, "What are you doing?"

"Killing this Gallomite if he doesn't cooperate," Tryke said, "Fifty seconds. Where is she?"

"She-she-," the Gallomite began to cry, "She is at the Vulcanik System. She won't leave for another two days. Please-please-have mercy on me."

"I will have mercy," Tryke said, satisfied with his victory and dropping him to the floor. He turned and walked away, leaving the writhing man on the ground. A few seconds later, there was a slight pop, and blood flew all over Tryke as he walked away.

* * *

The Admiral moved to the replicator in his three bedroom apartment. Since he had talked to Captain Tryke, Admiral Beeotch had returned to Delta Vega, where he lived in the sprawling city of Velman. Here he would ride out the war for the most part, especially as the Borg and Dominion continued to focus most of their efforts on the bigger and more more defended areas of a shrinking Federation. He took out the plate of steak, eggs and cheese and moved towards the table.

"You certainly took your time," a baritone English voice said, and he started, dropping the plate to the ground and it shattered.

"D-n you Commander!" he snapped, turning to look at the holographic projection sitting with crossed legs on the sofa, "Couldn't you have picked a better time to disturb me?"

"Not my fault your a fat slob," he said, watching the Admiral yank a cloth from the counter and bend over to clean the mess.

"Where are you now?" Beeotch asked.

"Hasn't Section 31 told you where I am by now?" the Commander asked.

"You always were an elusive man," the Admiral said, wiping the plate up and throwing it into the waste disposal unit in the corner, next to the six hundred year old cu-co-clock. "But an agent noticed you two on Harven-Loos."

"That's correct. We were." John Harrison acknowledged.

"What were you doing there?"

"Tryke seems to think a lady friend of his is committing crimes against the political powers in the Quadrant," the Commander said, leaning back and looking at his fingernails as if there was something interesting going on there. "Is this really the case?"

"Yes," Beeotch said.

"Under your orders?"

"Not mine per sey," the Admiral said, reordering his dinner from the replicator. "This comes directly from the Center."

The Commander was silent a second. This was news of a sort that deeply troubled him. Snow storms bellowed outside, making the room seem much lighter than the light in the room actually was.

"What does the Center have against Tryke?" he finally asked. "He must have really pissed off the Section if he was to get the Center's attention."

Beeotch chortled amused as he stepped over to sit behind the table, looking over at Harrison. The man was dangerous, even in holographic form. But the man was really clueless to what was really going on here.

"Tryke's failure in the Delta Quadrant was unacceptable," he said, "We thought we had permanently put him out of action with putting him in the New Zealand Maximum Detention Center. But d-n that Picard for getting him out."

"Why not kill him then?" Harrison asked, "And be done with it."

"The Center believes he has information from that mission that cannot be risked being lost," Beeotch said, cutting into the steak with a knife, "We are certain he deliberate failed to keep us from achieving what was best for the Federation."

"And that is..." Harrison left the question hanging.

"Oh no," Beeotch shook his head, "It's time to decide John Harrison. Are you with us or against us. We have Tryke is the cross-hairs, and anything with him is against us and will be dealt with. Goodbye."

And with that, he pushed a button that disintegrated the hologram. Humming to himself, he lifted the fork and ate a piece of steak, savoring the flavor.

**Act 4**

The medical monitors which showed vital signs was not encouraging. Hourly the levels dropped that much further and he watched as his twin boys got closer and closer to death. Doctors continued hourly to try different treatments to heal them, but nothing was working.

After yet the fifteenth treatment, Stubbs lost his patience.

"Are you seriously telling me you can do absolutely nothing for my children?" he snapped, as the Vulcan doctor shook his head and placed the tricorder on the table. "We've got all this d-n technology!"

"Your anger at the results is illogical at best," the Doctor said, looking with that cool Vulcan detachment towards him, "It will not change the results."

"But we've made so many progresses in medical technology," Veronica added, "There must be something you can do."

"This isn't a holo-novel where technology is the answer for everything," the Vulcan said, picking up the PADD and heading towards the door, "We haven't reached that point yet where we can magically heal people. I'm sorry, but there is nothing that can be done."

"You aren't sorry!" Stubbs muttered angrily, moving to the bedside of his children and looking at their faces which shone from the light above them, "Vulcans are computers. They don't feel anything. They're like those drones we keep battling. Unfeeling, caring for nothing. Don't you feel any type of grief, or joy, or sorrow? Or are you too detached to care for anything except your confounded logic."

The doctor hesitated at the door. The Vulcan woman (as a rule richly endowed as all Vulcan women were) looked at the door. When she next spoke, it was in an almost feeling manner.

"I was at Wolf 359," she said, "I was just a Medical Technician onboard the USS Melbourne. Within thirty seconds, I lost everyone I knew. I was the sole survivor of that ship, for I panicked and fled as the first Borg beam cut through our ship, killing thirty people in a second. Indeed, Captain. I do feel. Guilt at having abandoned my crew mates. And my wife. I live with that guilt; despite all my Vulcan training."

And with that the woman exited the room.

"Haven't you figured out a way out of thessse ressstraintsss yet?" growled R'Kar, every second looking more and more angrier (if it was possibly for Gorn to look so).

"Does it look like I have?" Sam snapped from where he was chained high above the floor. "I can't even comm out of here."

"You think anyone would mind if I peed in my uniform?" Jonathon asked, his face straining, "I was holding it before I went on my shift."

Sam looked at him incredibly, "That must have been two days ago!"

"I learned how to hold it all in while I was living in that hell hole of an orphanage growing up," came the strained reply.

"Gorn warriorsss can go a week without reliving themssselvesss," R'Kar nodded approvingly, "You have the making to be a true warrior, pouchling."

The door to the holodeck slid open and in stepped Trust. He looked around at those hanging there and nodded.

"Thank goodness!" Jonathon exclaimed, "I was hoping that someone would find us quick-like. I need to go pee."

"As soon as this mission is over I can let you all down," Trust said, looking from person to person, "But until that time, I cannot risk you getting down."

"Why?" Mollen demanded, "What are we doing here?"

"You are all friends of the Captain of the ship we need to destroy," he said, scratching the side of his face, " I cannot risk you being compromised in case Species 8472 tries to get you to cooperate."

"Who can that possibly be?" Mollen demanded, trying to get out of the chains, "Whose ship are we after?"

Nathan Trust nodded his head and turning left them to hang there in the medieval type of dungeon. As the door opened Mollen shouted, "WHO IS IT?"

"Who were you talking to last night?" Tryke asked, staring at his First Officer as the man entered the cockpit and took his turn at the helm, sitting in the co-pilots seat.

"My contacts," Harrison replied, not looking at him as he activated the console, "Seeing what I can find about this woman you are so intrigued with."

"That's none of your concern," Tryke retorted, slowly rising from his chair, "Just wake me up when we reach Vulcanik."

Harrison nodded his acceptance of the order and Tryke headed off back towards the room where he'd spend the next five hours sleeping. He entered the room and walking up to the console on the wall pushed his hand on the sensor at the side, activating it.

"Computer," he said, "Any messages for Adam Tryke, Captain?"

"There are no messages for Adam Tryke, Captain, USS Kahn Noonien Singh."

He frowned, "Are you sure?"

"Affirmative."

He shut off the screen by removing his hand and he looked at it in the dark. He usually got a message from Jonathon twice during the week. He should have gotten one already. Shrugging it off he went to the bed.

"Are you sure?" Ashley asked, scarcely daring to believe what she had heard.

"There is no doubt about it," McCoy said, the wavy haired man looking with a genuine smile at her, "You are pregnant."

Ashley Lendon looked at the mirror across the medical bay. She was smiling so wide it could have shattered the archaic mirror, since no ships had mirrors anymore. So wild was her smiling and her joy she didn't hear Stitch as he spoke again. She started though when he touched her.

"Still with us mortals?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Uh yeah," she said, "What?"

He sighed and rubbed his forehead, "How are you going to break the news to Jonathon?" he asked.

"I don't know," she shrugged, "I guess I'll tell him when he gets back from his away-mission."

"He's on an away-mission?" McCoy asked, tilting his head to the side. "Odd, since I last saw him go to the holodeck. Computer, locate Ensign Jonathon Lendon."

"Ensign Lendon is in Holodeck Three."

"Sickbay to Holodeck Three," he called out, but no answer came back.

"R'Kar," Mollen asked from where he hung, "Can you break the chains? I fear that Trust has lost his mind."

"Yessss," R'Kar said, and with that pulled himself as high up as the chains connected to the ground would let him and wrapping his teeth around the manacles bit down hard.

**Act 5**

Stubbs sat in the antique Corvette his family owned, thinking very hard. His children had survived so much and far longer then was medical possible, but they were still dying. They were far too young to allow their lives to be snuffed out. He could perhaps prevent their deaths. In his fingers he held a ring. It was golden with a red jewel on it.

The door opened and his wife entered the drivers side door. She actually could drive. Saying nothing she turned the key and the engine started. Slowly the car pulled out and began to speed down the highway towards their Seattle home.

"I could save them," he said in a low voice.

Veronica said nothing for a second. "If you could," she finally said, "Then I'd kill you if you let them die. They are our children and you'd owe it to us. But, you never were much at doing what was asked."

He glanced over at her. "What are you saying?" he asked, anger rising in him, "I'm tired of your always complaining about me."

She sighed. They continued driving as rain began to fall on the windows and rooftop of the car. Something on Earth would never change. Even the weather control stations couldn't stop Washington and Oregon from pouring rain like nobody's business on a daily basis.

"If they die, there would be no reason for use to remain together. I'd want nothing anymore to do with you or our daughter. It would simply be too much a burden."

"If you were woman enough you'd stop blaming everything on everyone else," he said, not realizing yet what she was saying.

"I have never loved you like I love our sons," she said, not looking at him, "They are everything to me."

"And what of Lola?" he demanded, "What about her? You aren't the only one hurting Veronica."

"What of her?" she asked.

Now it was clear to him. His wife had never really loved him or Lola. They were nothing to her but a hinderance to her and her idea of a family which was only her and her sons. No, he couldn't let it end like this. He lifted the ring and slid it on.

"So, the child returns."

"What a dry and desolate dust ball you've set us on," Harrison remarked with a smirk as the shuttle doors opened on a high cliff top over the desert of the third planet of the Vulcanik system. Hot wind lashed sand across and around the cliff, and swept into the shuttlecraft.

"Let's go," Tryke said, heading off into the winds. The sun was very bright and seemed to grill them as they walked.

On the cliff was a jagged opening in the ground nearly five dozen yards from whether they landed. Walking to the entrance to the opening, they looked down and saw that it lead to a dug out cave beneath. There was no sign of another ship in the area, but they both felt that there would be people below.

Down they entered, keeping an eye out as they escaped the howling winds. The entrance was a steep incline, but a quick dash brought them to where it evened out. As they went further down, the light seemed to diminish but not enough to hinder their progress. Soon, they entered a massive cavern, and all the light from the boiling sun went out.

Tryke stopped, listening but Harrison bumped into him, not realizing he had stopped. They looked around in the darkness, unsure of where to go.

"Did you bring the light?" Tryke asked.

"I thought you had," Harrison replied.

Tryke slapped his face with the palm of his hand and grunted in frustration. "Back to the ship then to grab it," he said, but as soon as he turned around, the whole cavern exploded in flood lights.

"Welcome," a woman's voice boomed, "Missed me love?"

Tryke's eyes immediately dilated as he sent mental orders to his Borg nanites to shield his eyes. He wouldn't risk being taken unawares again.

"Sarah?" he called out, "What are you doing this for? WHat have they done to you?"

"No more than you did to me," said the woman, "But don't move. If you move, I'll kill you."

"You'll kill me anyways," he retorted, "But me and my first officer here will take you and your friends with us."

There was a baritone laugh and the voice which sounded oddly Klingon replied. "Harrison is not likely to kill his own. We are of like mind, are we not Harrison?"

"I don't follow your ways anymore, General," he retorted, holding a hand up to shield his eyes, "The ways have been corrupted."

"No," the 'General' said, "We haven't changed. It's you that has become corrupted. Goodbye, Adam Tryke. We promise to treat Kahn Noonien Singh with great care."

"What are you planning for my ship?" he demanded, readying to grab his phaser.

"Not your ship," the Klingon voice chortled, "May I introduce to you: Emperor Kahn Noonien Singh, living as John Harrison for the past hundred years."

Tryke laughed out loud at the absurdity as he looked as his commander. What a foolish lie. Kahn was killed by Kirk. No way this man, who wasn't even a Sikh mind you, could be that man. An explosion shook outside, signaling the destruction of the shuttle.

"Ready weapons!"

Just then there was the sound of a transporter and yellow lights twinkled in the flood lights. There was a spray of phaser fire from rapid weapons and there were screams and shouts. A hand grabbed Tryke's shoulders and he turned to see in his shadow a woman. In the floodlights he could see her slash forward with her knife. He pushed it aside and rammed her hard in the head. She collapsed like a light bulb shattered.

Just as the last phaser shot was fired, the people who had rescued them stepped forward and grabbing them by the arms and with a yellow light swirling around them, next thing they knew, they were gone.

Carol Wallace let the water pour over the grim on her body. She hadn't had a chance to shower in roughly a week, and she felt every grain in-bedded in her body. She was so glad to actually be alone and in command of the KANS. She had her eyes closed, so glad that Harrison wasn't around. He was a dominating person in their relationship, and she was glad to be rid of him. However, she wouldn't have minded had the Captain stayed around. She found Adam to be kind of cute.

But, soon enough her time ran out and the ten minute shower ended. Taking deep breaths of the steamy air, she stepped out and grabbed a towel.

"Bridge to Commander Wallace."

"Yes?" she asked, wrapping the towel around her.

"We've got a ship coming up on long range sensors."

"Oh yeah?" she asked, not really surprised, "I'll be to the bridge-" She was thrown violently to the floor and her head hit the wall.

Phaser blast after phaser blast ripped through the Kahn Noonien Singh's side, and the attacking ship passed so close by that the very movement threw the ship. And all the while phaser and torpedo strikes slammed into the hull, tearing it apart.


End file.
